


Lonely Reaper

by bog_rosemary



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Felix, Bang Chan is a Sweetheart, Cute Yang Jeongin | I.N, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Grooming, HOW could i forget to tag angst!!! that's like my favorite tag, Hurt/Comfort, Lee Felix (Stray Kids)-centric, Mentioned BLACKPINK, Mentioned Lee Taemin, Mentioned Other K-pop Artist(s), Mentioned Sunmi - Freeform, Mentioned TWICE Ensemble, Platonic Relationships, Soft Seo Changbin, Team as Family, bang chan best leader, cameos include but are not limited to:, skz said fuck the government. overthrow that bitch, there's a few ocs scattered about but that's just bc i needed to populate the world i created
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 101,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bog_rosemary/pseuds/bog_rosemary
Summary: There will be no more lies in the world, they say. That is the reason for all of this, for destroying all of the art and the stories of the world, for silencing the music and the voices that spoke up. It’ll be better like this.Felix doesn’t know a life beyond the Eight Districts. They raised him, made him what he is, and now he kills for them. The worst part is that he’s good at it, at the killing, but he does what he’s told like a good little soldier. When he’s assigned to eliminate a group of insurgents calling themselves District Nine, his loyalty to everything he’s ever known is tested, and he begins to question the new world order and what it’s really suppressing.
Relationships: Lee Felix (Stray Kids) & Everyone
Comments: 347
Kudos: 424





	1. Is This The Real Life? Is This Just Fantasy?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I haven’t published a fic in forever, all my stories kind of get ignored 😅 but I’m going to be brave and release this anyway. It’s my first time trying rpf, and I don’t really know how I feel about it yet, but I don’t want to sit on this fic any more than I have been already. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and of course stream God’s Menu!! <3

_“I am a reaper whose muscles set at sun-down. All my oats are cradled._

_But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them. And I hunger.”_

“Yongbok. Lee Yongbok.”

Felix gave his shoe laces a poisonous look and knotted them a bit more tightly than he should. That was unfair; none of this was their fault.

“Bokkie.”

“I’m _here,”_ Felix grumbled, catching the flurry of papers his supervisor threw at him. “What’s this.”

“Your next assignment.” His supervisor sat across from him, on the other bench in the gym’s changing room. Felix stared up at him for a moment, allowing himself a brief display of annoyance in the same way his supervisor allowed himself a familiar nickname. “We’ve thrown pretty much everything else we have at them, but they’re straight-up cockroaches.”

“You want me to…?”

His supervisor sighed, and shrugged with his entire body. “Do what you do best.”

It was a delicate way of saying that the Districts wanted them dead. Felix flipped through the papers, placing them back into the manila folder they came from, noting citizen identifications and surveillance camera footage among witness accounts and photos of crime scenes. The file seemed plenty thick.

“There’s only seven of them, it’ll be easy enough for you.” The words were a sigh. “Well. It should be. We’re giving you a small squad to use for them; you’ll have full operational discretion, of course. I don’t have to tell you that they’re expendable.”

“Great,” Felix mumbled. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a moment longer. Felix’s workout was long over, with him showered and his hair pressed flat — there was nothing stopping him leaving, save the way his supervisor’s foot hammered lightly against the floor, the way he stared up at the ceiling with words on his lips.

“What is it,” Felix said, breaking the silence and leaning forward slightly.

“You can _ask,_ you know,” his supervisor said, the words bursting out of him.

“It’s not in the file?”

“It’s — they’re insurgents,” he said. “That much is in there. It’s just. They’re making a facsimile of the Districts, calling it _District 9_ of all things.” With a small break, his supervisor gained control of himself again. “It is rather more personal this time around. We want you to exterminate them with extreme prejudice.”

Felix nodded slowly. “Just for that?”

There was a wry smile on his supervisor’s face. “I didn’t tell you this, but they’re very prideful, our leaders. They won’t ever admit it, but they love their image far too much. This District 9 is a stain on their faces. As if they’re spitting on them. That’s why they’re sending you, you know. We all trust you to make a good example of them.”

“Right. Extreme prejudice.”

“You get it. See you around, Yongbok.”

Felix sucked his lips into his face. “You too.”

He didn’t, of course; supervisors came and went just as quickly for any number of reasons, this one’s moment of familiarity costing him more than Felix cared to know. It was part of the reason he never bothered to learn their names. Ultimately, they remained unimportant.

The case stayed with him, however, as Felix narrowed his eyes at the fresh squad he was given every time they failed to live up to his expectations. They were all far too young, and an unexperienced lot; _he_ was allowed small instances of personality that he hoarded jealously, though the squad hadn’t seemed to notice that they were hardly allowed the same. Most people assumed the same thing; that proximity to him allowed them more than they were used to. Felix would never report them for indiscretions, but he never had to. None of them were suddenly reassigned, at least, and he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to waste time training anyone new.

His nights were spent studying the contents of that file, committing each of the seven names and faces to memory. Surely they were operating under false identities at the moment, but those were easy enough to figure. There wasn’t anywhere for them to hide that they wouldn’t be found. He meant it literally — cameras covered every inch of the world, their sophisticated AI system keeping track of each face as it moved through cities and countrysides alike. Beyond that, as Felix moved closer to his hunt, he wanted to know the faces of his prey.

Two entirely new supervisors later, Felix finally got the go-ahead to disappear with his squad into the city where this District 9 was assumed to set up their latest base of operations. Felix sucked on his teeth when he learned it was in what had been Korea; technically, his family was supposed to have been from there, but all he had known of his very short childhood was hot deserts and thickly accented English. They’d all gone through thorough language training, and Felix could claim fluency in most Pacific Ocean languages and some European ones, but Korean looked at him as if it wanted more from him. Still, he was fluent and that was all that mattered.

His squad was nervous on the airplane over; they must all be unused to air travel. They all acted the same, with superficial differences, so Felix had never bothered to learn what those differences were. Presumably they had names. Most people still did. It was a little soon in the process to transfer fully over to I.D. numbers, though everyone had them already. Felix could rattle his off by heart. Most people could.

That’s how he entertained himself on the long flight over; 1784le756flx. 1784le756flx. 1784le756flx. Over time, it became utterly meaningless, and he could sleep.

* * *

“Sir.” Hot breath landed on his neck, and a hand trembled as it shook him. “Sir, we’re almost landing.”

Felix cracked open his eyes to glare at the squad member sitting to his left. He had let the kid get the window seat, but now he was regretting it as it seemed she had become too familiar with him. As such he relished the gulp of fear as the kid sat back and stared firmly ahead. Felix pretended not to notice nervous glances back at him as they happened far more frequently than he would like.

“Do you speak Korean?” he asked the kid. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she jumped, most likely spooked by the gravelly tone of voice.

“A — A little, sir. Enough.”

“Partner up with someone who’s fluent,” Felix said. “It’ll be easy for you to be quiet in the background.”

“Yes, sir,” the kid mumbled.

“I’ll assign you partners when we land,” he muttered, registering the kid’s words and letting them fall to the wayside as he managed his sleepy thoughts aloud. “We’ll sleep for the first day, brush up on the language, get food, scatter through the city. 25 gu… We’re lucky Seoul has kept its districts, we know what happened to New York and London… I suppose they’re not distinct enough here, as it were. We’ll go through the city a district at a time. It won’t take us more than a year. Less time than we’ve been allowed.” The Districts liked him to be thorough; they wanted him to finish the job as soon as he could, but rarely did he get a real, pressing deadline.

The muttering let him wake up more, and he sat up in his chair, blinking at how close the seat in front of him was. “Is this guy reclining?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” the kid next to him whispered.

Felix blinked and turned to look at her, both actions as slow as he could manage them. “Did you hear all of that.”

She was red as anything. “Yes, sir.” Not quite as embarrassed as Felix, but he could hide it better.

He kicked viciously at the seat in front of him. “Most crashes happen when the plane is taking off and landing,” he growled, and the seat shot up.

Incheon Airport had not changed through the years. Felix made his way through the terminal thanks to the English on the signs, avoiding the Hangul’s round, staring eyes, his squad following him like ducklings. At the luggage carousel, after everyone had taken care of themselves after that long flight, he paired everyone off. A good majority of them claimed to speak Korean fluently, but he couldn’t care if they were lying to him and paired them off accordingly. Standing around at the luggage carousel was nothing more than a meeting point, with all of their items in their carry-ons, and they left the airport in their pairs, leaving Felix to indulge in a cup of awful airport coffee before taking a taxi to his hotel.

In a lot of ways, the world was the same under the Eight Districts legislative and executive system. Most of the changes were on a federal level, meaning that for the regular citizen, although there was now no official difference between them and someone halfway across the world from them, there weren't actually any changes in their regular, day to day life. Sure, they were all united under one flag. Or eight, as it were, though these eight districts were meant to be nothing more than a temporary placeholder for the official world government to come. The point was that awful airport coffee was awful airport coffee. Had been before this and would be until the end of time, most likely.

They’d struggled to find a hotel with thirty-odd free beds, even if it was for only a few nights. As such they were split between a few low-cost hostels and hotels, Felix in the most expensive with a room to himself. It was the little luxuries.

As night fell around them, Felix found he wasn’t tired, and so dedicated himself to a map of the city. The 25 districts were outlined in red, but he went over them again, lumping a few together and separating others. The internet told him how densely populated each district was, and Felix wanted to spread equal amounts of time searching through equal amounts of people. Small notes scattered over the map, in Hangul and English both, each small circle of Hangul staring out at him.

At midnight, even if he still wasn’t tired, he folded the map back up and turned out the light. The city in the frame of his window glowed. It distracted him far too much and he turned his back to it.

* * *

His phone alerted him to the time. It automatically adjusted to time zones, and he hadn’t turned his alarm off, so like most days of his life he woke up at seven in the morning. Unlike most days, Felix spent a fair amount of time blinking at the wall before deciding to shut his phone up.

His squad wasn’t meant to meet up for another couple hours, so Felix took a quick shower and changed into one of his spare outfits, a sort of non-uniform. All black — the Districts had a certain aesthetic they wanted to operate under, and Felix couldn’t care less what clothes he put on his body. It wasn’t meant to stand out, which meant it did. People knew well enough to stay out of his way for the most part, but this was meant to be a mission with a fair amount of stealth and discretion, so he’d have everyone go shopping.

There was a café near the hostel. Despite the low cost of the hostel itself, the area wasn’t so awful — close enough to the centre of the city to be convenient, if somewhat expensive — and it seemed as if the café had been a dance studio once upon a time. It seemed as if sound should echo along the walls, at least. Dance studios were hardly allowed nowadays, though Felix had spent his time in an officially ordained one to learn control of his body and grace. Here, the only sounds that echoed across the walls were clattering cups of tea and coffee, and low chatter between patrons. _How has your day been? What did you do last week?_ Friendly interrogations; there wasn’t much else to talk about.

Once his coffee arrived, he opened his map once more, drawing small lines over the streets of each district and mentally assigning sets of his squad to their own sets of streets. He’d meant to do it last night, but the long flight and his own pitiful exhaustion took its pound of flesh. At least he had time now, and the meeting wouldn’t be awful.

They’d start at the bottom right of the city and work their way clockwise through it, he decided. Gangdong-gu and Songpa-gu would be manageable together, and an easy start. Their Wikipedia articles were short and to-the-point.

Someone slid out the seat across from him. Felix froze, and he stared holes into the map, unable to look up at whoever had just invaded his table.

“Hi,” the stranger said in Korean. She sounded like she had a smile on her face, and Felix raised his eyebrows at the table before staring up at her.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you new here?” The stranger acted just fine; more than just fine, really, acting like a concerned citizen about to suggest — “You’re studying that map so hard. Maybe I could show you around?”

It was acceptable flirting, Felix knew, though he was hardly experienced with it. Most people tended to see his non-uniform and figure he was too dangerous for them, which he was. “I’m from the countryside,” he lied. “My family’s moved up here and I’m getting acquainted with the city.”

“That’s so nice,” the stranger said with a dazzling smile. “You’re close to your family?”

“I am.” Felix hadn’t seen his parents in years; it had to do with his very short childhood. “We’ve always been pretty tight-knit.”

“How nice,” the stranger mused. “Well… You’re lucky to have found this café. Do you think you’ll become a regular here?”

“Maybe,” Felix said. _No._ “It depends on where my family ends up. My sister’s still in school, so we want to find somewhere with a good system for her.”

“You’re not?” the stranger asked, painted with surprise. “But you’re so young.”

Felix smiled tightly. “I’m older than I look, I promise.”

The stranger’s smile, on the other hand, was open and sweet. “It must be so hard, moving to a city you don’t know.”

In his experience, most cities were largely the same. Big places whose history couldn’t be written out of their narratives, though the Eight Districts were certainly trying their hardest. “It sure is,” Felix said, forcing himself to act like the character he’s made up would. “Thank you for your offer, but I think learning to walk around the city on my own would help more. I’m sorry.”

The stranger was obviously disheartened at the obvious rejection, though Felix didn’t let himself feel bad. She sat up in her chair and licked at her lips, stretching out her arms and pulling the sleeves over her fingers. As an afterthought she sent him a reassuring smile. Felix kept a smile on his face but said nothing more as she rose up and left, disappointment etched into the curve of her back as she returned to a table with another couple women sitting around cups of coffee and pastries. They seemed to console her as Felix packed up his map and deposited his coffee cup on the space of the café’s counter reserved for returning dishes.

Maybe if he dyed his hair black again, he wouldn’t stand out so much. A few of his squad were foreigners here, so it would be harder for them to fit in; officially, without borders, the world was supposed to be a more diverse mix of people. It seemed there would still need to be more time to see that become the regular practice. For now they would just have to live with their abrupt appearances and hope word of them wouldn’t spread.

The rest of the mapping was done in his hotel room, and with ten minutes to the meeting time, he gathered his things and made his way to the office space they had rented for this mission. Most of his squad had made their way to it as well, and lingered in cubicles, getting their identities fully committed to memory and looking up apartments.

“Conference room in five,” Felix called to them all, letting the resulting _“yes sir!” c_ ut abruptly off as he shut the door to that room shut behind him. He pasted the map over the whiteboard on the far wall, but there was little else for him to do other than linger over his already made decisions. After a moment of thought, he wrote out his simple to-do list with markers that had been provided. Or maybe they had been left there by whoever had been ousted from this space before they were moved in.

  1. Dye hair black
  2. Purchase street clothes



He stared at the empty number 3 longer than necessary, keeping it empty as the squad came trickling in. There were a few more people than there were seats, and the back of the room became crowded with standing bodies.

  1. Become acquainted with Korean food



4\. 

“Right,” Felix muttered to himself, before turning to his squad with hard eyes. They all looked at him expectantly.

“I hope you’re all next to the partner I assigned to you yesterday.” There came a fair amount of shuffling that Felix pretended not to see. He tore out a piece of paper from the notebook he’d brought and set a pen on top of it, sliding it over to the pair immediately to his left. “Write down your names together. What I need from you all is to blend in, so here — “ he gestured to the whiteboard behind him — “is a list for you all to complete to fit in. Any suggestions?”

A few hands raised. Felix pointed at the woman closest to him. “Where will we get hair dye?”

“The grocery store. You.”

“We should all know at least conversational Korean,” a man said.

“If you don’t already, work with your partner to learn to answer simple questions. Build from that. You.”

“Will we have an allowance to purchase clothes?”

“Yes, you’ll have enough money to buy anything you need as long as it isn’t too extravagant.” Another few hands went up at that, and Felix bit back a sigh of annoyance. “Yes.”

“What’s the currency here?”

Felix stared at her for a moment, struggling for words. “The same as it is everywhere?” He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but everyone else was too busy staring at her to make note of it.

The woman floundered under everyone’s stares. She was a little older than most people at the table, though still obviously a rookie within the organization of the Districts; she must be used to a world where boundaries were more firm, where places had different currencies and exchange rates. Now there were just universal monetary units — not worth as little as the yen, but not as much as the euro or the American dollar, either. Felix took pity on her and muttered, “It used to be South Korean won. You’ll have credit cards to use. They’ll come in the mail once you get your apartments set up.”

“Right,” the woman whispered.

The meeting moved on from that, as Felix explained his plan to move through the city one week at a time with most of his eighteen pairs of operatives taking a section of streets and combing through them thoroughly. Felix himself would stalk through the gu at night, and resigned himself to spend the majority of his time in this office space. What he wouldn’t give to be in the daylight hunt, though he knew most of these things happened once the sun went down. Rebellions loved the dark.

Half an hour later, the meeting adjourned with each pair assigned a part of the city and the simple to-do list had expanded.

  1. Dye hair black
  2. Purchase street clothes
  3. Become acquainted with Korean food
  4. Be able to answer basic questions
  5. Take walking and history tours around the city
  6. Read local news
  7. Befriend neighbors and foreigners
  8. Spend time at the grocery stores and cafés/coffee shops
  9. Find a way to spend your evenings



The last point was maybe a little excessive, and leaned too far into self-care for official standards, but Felix knew he could get away with it. Most people didn’t have to spend their entire days “on,” but Felix worked his squads hard. He’d fight for them to have time for self-expression, even if it was just an hour in a gym working over a punching bag. Not because he cared for them. He just needed them to work right. Obviously he couldn’t push it to things like painting or writing or even pottery — nobody could do that anymore, nor should they want to — but an hour of learning Arabic or how to bake macaroons would help with some basic skills and with the stress of relocating so quickly to a new city.

Felix didn’t think about it overly much as he photocopied the seven main insurgents faces and posted them up on the glass wall between the conference room and the floor that used to hold cubicles. He’d taken over the conference room as his main office, even though there was a perfectly fine executive office a few doors down. The whiteboard and large windows felt a little better to be around.

* * *

Three weeks into the investigation of the city, as Felix became comfortable running on naps snatched in the middle of the day and after they had cleared Gangdong-gu, Songpa-gu, Gagnam-gu, Seocho-gu, Dongjak-gu, and Gwanak-gu, a pair of operatives went missing.

The entire operation went into overdrive, tracking their last known movements and frantically trying to think of why they were caught. They had been combing through the Mullae-dong in Yeongdeungpo-gu, and Felix diverted everyone to careful examination of that area, creating missing posters in both English and Korean to tell everyone about the missing tourists and the families that missed them desperately. After calling the police and then the media, he gave a statement over the phone with a voice modifier that should sound appropriately teary. Nothing would come of it, he was sure, but at least if their bodies were washed up on the riverbed of the Han it would get media coverage.

It might not even be related to the insurgents, that elusive District 9. The squad was getting restless from three weeks of straight nothing — Felix knew how long the hunt could take, but the squad was still made of rookies, and that restlessness could cost them dearly. If it was their own stupidity that caused them misfortune, then Felix would not feel sorry for them.

Nothing more happened for a week, even as they kept their attention on Mullae-dong, Felix making nightly visits to the 7-eleven there and waiting for something to happen to him. He could feel eyes on him every time he picked up his dosirak dinner and strawberry milk. The weekend saw him add an Isul Tok Tok to his bag, as if he was ashamed of it, but with the three percent content it was honestly just a fruity soda.

He even wore his non-uniform of all black once or twice, but anyone that watched him did nothing but watch. With no little disappointment, Felix assigned a pair to watch over the busy intersections of Mullae-dong, but began to concentrate his efforts on his slow sweep over the rest of the city. They planned to finally cross the river in a couple weeks, and the north was an entirely different beast.

Then the pair assigned to watch over Mullae-dong went missing. Felix decided he had had enough, and sat in his office for two entire days, the blinds to the cubicle space closed tight. The faces of those seven insurgents stared out at the squad blankly, but Felix could care less about the nervous energy on the other side of his door. He was far too busy scanning through CCTV in Mullae-dong — more specifically, flipping through his route to and from the 7-eleven, as he dove deep into the alleyways at night. There were hardly any people around at that time, and searching for someone tailing him should have been easy.

His eyes burned.

There came a knock at the door, and Felix shot a poisonous glare at it, a dismissal for whatever complaint about the insurgents’s portraits already on the tip of his tongue. But the face that opened the door was bright and cheery, rather than nervous, and Felix stepped through entirely ready for whatever news he was about to receive.

“We got a shipment,” the rookie said, a bright smile on his face. He gestured at crates that were still being unloaded through the front door to the office space. “From headquarters in 1.”

“Good,” Felix said, nodding. His attention immediately left the rookie as he strode over to the delivery, signing eagerly for it and helping them bring all of the boxes from the truck to their office. Everyone with nonessential projects were press-ganged into helping as well, and the multitude of boxes were quickly moved up to the office in their entirety.

“Here we go,” Felix announced to the gathered squad. With a crowbar wedged between the lid and the walls of the box, Felix jumped on the lever with his entire weight. It had been nailed shut tight, so the lid only opened slightly, but it was enough for Felix to rip it the rest of the way off and reveal the contents to everyone.

Well-packed into sawdust and old newspaper were matte black pistols. Each had a small box of bullets nestled beside them. They did not glint threateningly in the light, but the shapes of them were unmistakably dangerous.


	2. Caught In A Landslide, No Escape From Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i know last chapter is kind of slow and not a lot happens 😅 hopefully this chapter is a little more exciting? it's like 80% fight (so, like graphic violence and blood warning), and you finally get to see the other members!! so please have fun and enjoy <3

_“I crack a grain between my teeth. I do not taste it._

_I have been in the fields all day. My throat is dry. I hunger.”_

“There,” Felix whispered to no one. He slammed his finger onto the space bar and froze the CCTV footage — this was his proof. _This_ was what he needed.

The hunt was alive in the night.

It had only taken five days of staring at that awful screen — five days of watching a man in sunglasses sat outside a cheap seafood place, a man Felix had seen in real life as he watched him stalk through the alleyways of Mullae-dong. The synth of an old, old song played in the dark recesses of his mind — _don’t switch the blade on a guy in shades, oh no_ — but each time it rose up, he pushed it back with vigor. None of that was allowed anymore.

It only took five days to finally see the man in the baseball cap trailing him. Felix had noticed him early on, but there had never been a full image of his face. Of course Felix figured it had to be one of the seven pasted on the large windows that separated him and the rest of the office, but which face specifically remained a question. The curly, light hair had not helped at all — all of their official portraits of the insurgents showed dark hair, including the man in sunglasses that Felix had identified as _Hwang Hyunjin._ But finally there was enough of the man in the baseball cap to put a name to the face. It was a strange mix of Western and Korean, _Bang Christopher Chan,_ and Felix studied the shape of his face for a long, long time.

Closing his eyes, he gave himself a minute to wonder. Bang Christopher Chan was older than him by three years. He was technically from Korea, like Felix himself, but had lived in Australia for a while. His childhood would have been long. There would have been warm summer days. They were in Sydney at the same time — maybe they had passed each other there, at the beach, on a staircase, in two cars going opposite ways down the street. Now they were both here, and all of their interactions were calculated.

Felix drew himself out of his seat. The hunt had taken less time than he had thought, but the insurgents had taken his bait hook, line, and sinker.

The little nod Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Christopher Chan had shared cemented everything in his mind. He knew that they must have taken his operatives; most likely they were dead, but Felix did not mourn overly much for them.

He opened his door and faced his depleted squad. “Everyone.”

There were less of them now, less by four. Thirty-two where there had been thirty-six. A small enough number that it was barely noticeable, but if you knew where to look, there were four empty holes.

“We have a lead,” Felix told them. “In my office in two hours. Assign yourselves weapons and learn the streets of Mullae-dong.”

There was no cheer as they dispersed, but the squad moved with efficiency. Among themselves, they had decided to go in order of where they had put their names on that first day in the conference room, and Felix caught a glimpse of the first pair approaching their unofficial weapons master before closing the door to his office.

Littered with trash and smelling of him as it was, Felix spent a fair amount of time airing the room out and throwing away his leftover dosirak containers and strawberry milk cartons. The rest of his time was spent printing out a map of the area around the 7-eleven ripped from Google Maps with as much detail as his computer could load, and blowing up the CCTV pictures of Hwang Hyunjin in front of the seafood restaurant and Bang Christopher Chan’s face under his baseball cap.

Felix sat in front of the whiteboard for a long moment, staring at the two of them.

_I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can, see the light that’s right before my eyes,_ Felix wrote underneath Hwang Hyunjin’s picture, in the tiniest script possible, hidden from any searching eyes with how close his body was. He let the lyrics sit there for a moment before erasing them with one clean swipe of his finger and writing the hangul and romanized name of the seafood restaurant where it had been.

An old song, but songs weren’t allowed anymore. That kind of expression was dangerous — it led to rebellion, to riots, to people thinking fictions were reality. His generation had it the hardest, he’d been told; the in-between generation that knew what stories used to be, that made the great sacrifice to give them up. All for the sake of the future, of a future with people who could not lie because they did not know how, did not know even the concept of it, of a future where the histories and contemporary events were always the truth. There would be no stories. No songs, and no dancing. It was supposed to hurt to leave those behind, but it would be worth it, they were told.

Felix wouldn’t know. His childhood had been short, and now his life was brutal. There had never been space for music or stories in his life, at least not that he could consciously remember. Somehow _Sunglasses At Night_ had found a place in the deep corners of his mind, surfacing only when he saw the black shades on Hwang Hyunjin. He wore them as if they would hide him from Felix’s watching eye.

He went out and got his own weapons. Two matte black pistols, a fair amount of combat knives — nothing overly special, his usual load-out, light enough that he didn’t need to compromise any of his mobility enough but enough that he was more deadly with than without.

“Right,” he told everyone once they were crammed into the conference room. He smacked the blown-up CCTV footage of Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Christopher Chan he had pasted to the wall. “These two have been working together to track me through Mullae-dong at night for the past two weeks. Now that we have confirmed their movements, we’ll plan an ambush. At least one must be taken alive. I want two pairs here to monitor us and to report back to 1 in case this goes sideways. We want our last movements recorded.”

Every single person in the room shifted uncomfortably at that; they must have thought his presence would protect them. Felix knew he was only mortal. That was what made him one of the best.

He circled the seafood restaurant on the map and drew arrows through the small streets, detailing his plan of attack. It was supposed to be quiet and quick, which meant it would be anything but. Most of the weapons were supposed to be intimidation, which meant they were going to be used. Everyone seemed good with the roles Felix had given them, and they began to move out as soon as the meeting ended. Despite it being mid-afternoon, and their plan set to begin at night, Felix wanted his squad in position as soon as possible. They didn’t all go at once — there were a few loose ends to tie up — but the rooftop snipers left to set up, and a large amount of them pretended to be a tourist group taking a historical tour to get acquainted with the maze of alleyways.

Getting vans rented at such short notice was a pain in the ass, but Felix was satisfied with the two nondescript vehicles that parked in front of his building close to sunset. Their designated drivers spent time getting familiar with them, driving them around the block a few times with anybody they could pressgang into the back to feel the difference between an empty car and a full one.

For his part, Felix fiddled with his hair. He didn’t want a single strand out of place. It was all part of his image — the strict line of his fringe cutting across his forehead, the heat of the straightener so close to his neck. It was still a faded orange from when he had infiltrated a group of rebels months ago, but the dark brown roots had largely swallowed up what color had been there. He’d decided against dying his hair black, in the end, even as the shelves filled with hair dye in the 7-eleven stared out at him, their models with wide smiles and flowing dark hair watched him grab small bottles of cheap shampoo.

Personal style was still allowed — it would be impossible to get people to stop using makeup, to force them into one of five approved hairstyles, at least not right away. Though bright eyeshadow and things like Mohawks were at least looked at sideways. Dying your hair unnatural colors was banned outright, so no one could walk around with purple hair or even streaks of bleached highlights. So the boxes of hair dye that stared out at him were all black here to discourage deviation from the norm, but you could still choose which exact shade, which brand to buy from. You could choose which sweater you were going to wear, but you still had to wear a sweater, as it were.

Felix forewent the non-uniform for a cream-colored turtleneck and brown coat. It was easy to hide his holsters underneath the shapelessness of it, and no one could see the knives strapped to his forearms under the sleeves, or the sheaths on his thighs, both hidden by the length of it. And he was told that the outfit was very fashionable, as if he were going to go on a date or meet someone special at his apartment. The fabric of the clothes felt soft and important. He’d rented a place in Mullae-dong, moving into the apartment his operatives had left behind when they were captured. After tonight, it seemed unlikely that he would ever have to return there.

Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Christopher Chan’s faces stared at him in the emptiness of the conference room. He had time, and so he wondered. What did they do together? Why did they want their own District? Where did they think they were going to put it? Were… were they friends?

A light knock at the door broke Felix out of his musings. He bit back a small hum of the opening synth of _Sunglasses at Night,_ and opened it to find a rookie standing there, his face pale and drawn. The same one that had told him about the weapons shipment, he noted dully; maybe they had drawn lots to decide who would be Felix’s informal second in command, and this one had drawn the unlucky short stick.

“It’s time,” the rookie said. He thrust a small black earpiece to Felix. “It’s already on, and set to your private channel. You’ll be with me.”

“Right,” Felix said. He fit the piece into his ear with practiced movements, checking his reflection in the windows to hide it underneath his hair and the collar of his coat. “Is that good?”

The rookie hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hands pausing as he fixed Felix’s collar. “There.”

“Thanks,” Felix muttered, nailing his gaze to the door. “Is everyone in place?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The vans?”

“One’s in place. The other will drop you off on Seonyu-ro, and I’ll be in it, watching you.” Seonyu-ro ran perpendicular from the street of the 7-eleven Felix frequented. “I’ve got control of the channels. My partner will be driving us. We’ll meet you in the van once you’re done.”

“Right,” Felix murmured. He wouldn’t lie; he was far too distracted. All of this was just dressing. Yes, it was important, but all of it was just window dressing to the core of the hunt. The thrill of the chase, the power that came from being the one to hold a gun. So close he could feel it in his bones.

The ride over was silent. Felix and the pair of rookies were the only ones in the van, save the broadcasting equipment.

“Here,” the rookie whispered, as the car rolled to a stop. Felix opened the doors and strode out into the street as soon as the word left his mouth. The cold night air shot through him, cutting straight through his jacket to slice at his arms and torso, but it was nothing. It was nothing.

_“Can you hear me?”_ the rookie whispered, his voice static as Felix stepped through the doors to the 7-eleven. The bright white light of the convenience store made him squint his eyes, and he made his way to the dosirak shelves before muttering a confirmation. _“Good. Hwang has taken his place in front of the restaurant. We’ll wait for your word.”_

“Right,” Felix muttered. His attention fixed itself on the variety of dosirak as if he were trying to choose. He was spoiled for choice here, surprisingly; was this what it used to be like everywhere? It must have been so overwhelming. Felix didn’t know what it was like, so he couldn’t miss it, but just the idea of it made him wonder.

It didn’t matter, in the end, so Felix chose one of stir fried spicy pork and grabbed a bottle of soju with a higher alcohol content than the Isul Tok Tok he’d often bought. Maybe once this was over, he could treat himself. He’d worked hard.

The cashier gave him his bag with a strained smile. She must recognize him by now; he wondered if she knew he was dangerous. He’d stalked in here with his all black non-uniform more than once.

“Thanks,” he said to her smile, though he didn’t offer her one of his own. Like always, he left without turning back, and disappeared into the alleyways.

Each building, he noted, was entirely different from the ones next to it; it seemed as if they had been uprooted from all different parts of the world and planted right next to each other. Different stones, different heights, brick next to sandstone next to metal warehouses. There was a preschool here; or was it a daycare centre? Looking down a narrow path, Felix could see a small dog barking softly at a closed door.

_“Are these streets meant to be two-way?”_ the rookie in his ear mumbled. _“They’re so small.”_ Felix didn’t bother with a response, keeping his gaze down as he walked with his plastic bag rustling next to his leg. Yes, the streets were tight and narrow; he’d been in narrower ones in Ireland that were two-way, and broader ones in Sacramento that were only one.

_“You really are their perfect soldier, aren’t you,”_ the rookie said. _“Would it kill you to engage in some light conversation? Huh, Yongbok?”_

Felix grit his teeth and didn’t let himself say anything. Once this mission was done, he’d never have to see this rookie ever again.

_“Bang Chan’s trailing you,”_ the rookie muttered after a long moment. _“Started watching you once you left the convenience store.”_

_Couldn’t have said that sooner?_ Felix wondered. He clenched his fist around the handle of the plastic bag, the slight rustle of it deafening in the near-silent alleyway.

_“Nearing the restaurant,”_ the rookie said. Felix could just about feel his breath on his neck. He didn’t need to say it — Felix knew this route, knew to glance at Hwang Hyunjin through narrowed eyes in a practiced routine. _“We’re in position.”_

Felix’s heart seized in his chest. How many hunts had he been on? More than he could count. Each felt like his first. He was lucky his hands didn’t shake anymore, but he could do nothing to stop the stuttering in his chest, or the way his breath shook as he exhaled slowly. “Ready,” he whispered, the word barely escaping his lips before it dissipated into the air.

He lifted the bag and peered inside it. The game was to pretend that he had forgotten something at the store, so he shot a small glance over his shoulder and slowed his steps. Bang Christopher Chan was behind him, and watching him closely, but Felix made sure to only give him a brief glance out of the very corner of his eye. Just to keep track of where he was in space.

Technically, it was his first look at Chan’s face in real life. The black-and-white photo of his citizen identification photo and the green-tinted CCTV footage had painted something like an intimate picture of him, but it didn’t capture his face in motion, the way he tracked someone carefully, the angle of his nose as he peered out of the corners of his eyes. They were about the same height.

Felix turned back to his bag, slowing even further until he stopped in front of Hwang Hyunjin. In a smooth motion, hidden from both targets, Felix withdrew a pistol from its holster under his arm and turned to face Bang Christopher Chan, pointing the weapon at Hwang Hyunjin.

Surprise rippled across Chan’s face. None of them dared breathe, let alone move.

“Come quietly,” Felix told them.

“How — ?” Chan began. There was no accent in his voice, despite his time in Australia, but it sounded rounded and full.

“I’m good at my job.”

In a perfect world, this would be where the rest of his squad rushed in, the tires of his vans squealing; this would be where Chan and Hyunjin slowly raised their hands and surrendered peacefully.

_“Boss,”_ the rookie in his ear gasped. Felix made no sign that he had heard. _“We’ve been compromised. We’re half down — we’ve got a few coming your way, but the rest are occupied. Snipers are down.”_

In a perfect world, where things went right for Felix, there was no room for Chan’s slight smirk. “No good news, right,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of his smile. “Were you expecting backup?”

Felix chose not to answer, instead taking small and calculated steps away from the two of them, keeping both in his sight. The gun stayed pointed at Hyunjin.

“They’re not as good as we are,” Chan continued. “But I think we’re not as good as you are.”

“No,” Felix agreed.

“So it would be best if you came quietly,” Chan said. He shrugged at Felix’s poisonous glare, obviously not sorry to throw his own words back at him. “We outnumber you?”

As if on cue, a man burst from a side alleyway, trailed by a pair from Felix’s squad. He recognized the man as Han Jisung, but that wide smile had been absent in every picture they had of him. The three of them watching Jisung fight with his two agents, knives flashing in the streetlights, bodies moving as if dancing. But of course they weren't dancing. It just wasn't allowed.

One went down, and then the other, leaving Jisung standing victoriously, his breath hard. “There were another couple,” he said, laboriously, “but I took care of them.”

“Give me numbers,” Felix whispered into his earpiece.

The response was immediate. _“Six more insurgents, we split up so they’d have to deal with at least four of us each. One other pair was supposed to be your backup, but they’ve gone silent. My partner and I are planning to be the second wave with the other van.”_

“No. Get back to base and report to 1.” Felix watched the insurgents check up on each other as he whispered hurried orders. “If I don’t return by sunrise, call 1 for backup and retaliate with force.You’re in charge.”

_“Sir — “_

“That is an order,” Felix hissed. He hesitated for a split second, then said, “Keep me updated on who’s approaching me. Once you’re out of range, that’s it.”

To his credit, the rookie didn’t hesitate. _“You have Seo Changbin approaching from the closest alley to the southeast, pursued by a pair; Lee Minho is fighting four agents to the west, Yang Jeongin is fighting four further southeast; one unidentified operative and Kim Seungmin are fighting against four agents together northeast. They’re all converging on your location.”_

All seven main insurgents, with one more. They must have known him, or at least his reputation; Felix’s grip tightened around the handle of his pistol, his heart beating tight and fast in his chest. Something in him was rising.

_“We’ll see you when you return,”_ the rookie said into his ear. _“Get back safe, Yongbok.”_

Felix set the bag of groceries next to a building and locked his grip on his pistol. Han Jisung was still catching his breath, but all three of them had their eyes on him.

“If this is how we have to do it,” Felix muttered. Quickly, he tore his earpiece out and tossed it to the ground, stamping his heel on it and crushing it so they wouldn’t be able to take it and track them. It was probably moot point — his squad all had their own earpieces anyway, but it was the thought that mattered. “You’re all here. Doing my job for me.”

“So you won’t go easily,” Chan said. “I suppose we didn’t expect you to.”

Without giving any of them time to think, Felix charged them. There was enough space for him to tuck his pistol back into its holster and draw a knife from the sheath at his thigh, and he slashed upwards at Chan, ripping his shirt and drawing a thick line of blood on his chest. Chan stumbled back with a hand over the cut.

Hyunjin leaped at him from behind. Felix threw him off with a donkey kick at his knees, turning and swiping with his knife at his throat. He fell back, trying to avoid it, and hit the ground with an awful thud. Felix jumped back lightly to avoid a kick Hyunjin sent him from the ground, and whipped his head around to watch as Jisung lunged at him, his knife outstretched.

He had bleached his hair, Felix realized. There was a vicious look on his face, half-hidden by the blade of the knife he swiped at Felix. He ducked under the knife and rolled over Hyunjin to the side, withstanding a weak punch to the back from Hyunjin as they scuffled over his body still sprawled on the ground. Jisung landed fully on the floor, and he and Hyunjin scrambled to their feet ungracefully.

Felix swerved out of the way of a punch from Chan. There came a clatter of sound from behind him, all four of them glancing over to see a short, dark-haired man burst out of an alleyway, trading blows with an agent before decking them fully on the face that dropped them so hard their skull cracked on the floor. Seo Changbin — Felix recognized the face, the sharpness of it distinct.

Felix got in close to Chan and punched his chest with the butt of his knife, sending him back enough paces to stumble into Hyunjin and Jisung. Their movements were all sloppy, and they tripped on each other long enough for Felix to rush Changbin. He drew another knife from his thigh sheath. They’d wanted these deaths to be disgusting, to set an example. Felix could do that with guns, but it was much more effective to use knives.

Changbin stepped back out of the way as Felix rushed him. Felix slid to a stop and spun tightly on one foot, kicking high and catching his shoulder, making him stumble back. He regained his footing too quickly for Changbin’s retaliatory shove to do much of anything, and he slashed out with his knives, forcing Changbin back, making him stumble over the items littered in front of a small store before his back hit the brick wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chan charging towards him, rushing him with long arms but no other weapons. Felix braced his hand out, halfway hoping Chan would stab himself on his knife. No such luck. Instead he swerved, grabbing Changbin’s arm and hauling him away from the wall. Felix slashed out at them, but he couldn't get more than superficial scratches on them before they had retreated, Hyunjin and Jisung immediately taking their places.

Felix's knives clashed bitterly with Jisung's, just barely stopping them from cutting into his neck. Noticing Hyunjin gear up to kick him, Felix kneed Jisung in the stomach, shoving him back just in time to catch Hyunjin's leg in a block with his forearms. He drew a thick line of blood on Hyunjin's left leg before having to take a knee to avoid Jisung's swing at his head with his knife.

Getting this close to the ground was a bad idea, Felix knew; he braced himself on the ground with his arms and spun his legs out at Jisung and Hyunjin. It was half martial arts and half something that used to be called _breakdancing,_ which was not allowed, but he caught both of them before making them stumble away from him, so maybe it wouldn't matter. Using that momentum, Felix brought himself back up to stand, quickly assuming a ready stance with his knives out.

If he had to pinpoint a moment where his priority shifted from _kill the insurgents_ to _get out of this situation alive,_ it would have to be right then, when the unknown operative rounded the corner. Felix was far from stupid. He'd been struggling more than usual against four already; with the addition of this absolute beast of a person, it was all Felix could do to just get out of this fight intact.

And this unknown stranger was nothing if not a beast of a person. He came running around the corner at full sprint without any of Felix's squad trailing behind, and all Felix could do was dash out of his way and let him crash into Jisung and Hyunjin. He hadn't needed to look as he approached — the man made plenty of noise with his heavy footfalls — and Felix quickly registered greasy, bleached hair, a thick leather jacket, and a smile slicing across his face.

“Goddammit, get _off,_ Minsoo,” Jisung grunted, smacking at the man’s arm. They were the first words any of them had spoken since the fight started, and caught Felix’s attention long enough for Changbin’s charge to take him by surprise. It seemed to dislodge something in the five of them, though, and soon they began to communicate with each other, encouraging Changbin as he dealt out enough quick and sharp punches to drive Felix back from the rest of them. Mindful of where he was heading, Felix noted an alley he passed, where three people were caught in a fight. The quick glimpse he got showed him all the guns that were being waved around, but despite flashes from all of their muzzles, there was no sound of gunfire.

Changbin was shorter than Felix, and knew to get close — he stayed within Felix’s reach, too close for him to use his knives effectively. His punches were quick and knife-sharp, almost too fast for Felix to track, but he still managed to block most of them. A couple landed on his chest, but not his face, thankfully.

“Incoming,” Chan called. Felix was glad at the warning, though certainly it wasn’t meant for him. Changbin seized his bicep, but with a quick slice at his hand with a knife, Felix dislodged him, and they sprang away from each other. Chan and the other insurgent, Minsoo, ended up between them, looking lost for a split second before Chan rushed to hold Changbin’s hand together, and Minsoo focused on Felix.

Despite his size, Minsoo was fast; he struck out at Felix with straight, powerful fists, almost able to keep up with Felix’s way of weaving through a predictable assault like this. When Minsoo slid out his leg in an attempt to kick him, or just to trip him, Felix used the light jump to send out a kick himself, striking true in the center of his chest and knocking him off-balance.

Chan was right there to take up Minsoo’s place, and before Felix could look around for Changbin, he felt a disturbance of air behind him and ducked right before he could be punched in the back of the head. Being flanked was right below being on the ground on Felix’s list of undesirable positions in fights, so he dashed quickly to the side before they could do anything more. Chan’s leg shot out and caught Felix on the upper thigh as he moved back, and though he stumbled slightly for it, he managed to get them both back into his field of vision.

A hand closed around his upper arm, much larger and stronger than Changbin’s had been, though they were in the same place. Felix couldn’t help but hiss at the tight pressure on his forming bruises, but the pain wasn’t even worth being deemed negligible. Felix glanced up to see Minsoo reaching out to hold his other arm, and slashed at the approaching hand before ripping himself from his grasp. This close, Felix could spot a holster on Minsoo’s belt for a pistol. It was empty — but as he quickly checked Chan and Changbin, both getting in close, he could see their holsters held dangerous, dark things.

He would wonder why they weren’t using them, but wondering took time. All he could do at the moment was fight.

Minsoo snatched up his wrist in the moment he was distracted, and before Felix could tear himself free, Changbin kicked the knife out of his grip and sent it clattering down the street.

"Good job," Chan told him. He sounded breathless, though it was little wonder that he did, with all four of them breathing hard. Felix ran his tongue over his teeth, then forced himself to relax — he couldn't allow himself to be annoyed, not now, not ever. He tore himself loose from Minsoo’s grasp and held his knife out at the three of them, though he chose not to approach, taking a second to catch his own breath.

In that moment of reprieve, Felix looked out for Jisung and Hyunjin, half expecting another attack. They hadn't rejoined the fight, and once Felix's gaze fell upon them further down the street, he realized why. That cut he had opened on Hyunjin's leg must have been deeper than he realized, as it still oozed blood, Jisung and Hyunjin working together to press it closed.

They'd be easier to fight. Felix tensed up, about to run towards them, but just as he did so another insurgent ran out from a side alley between him and them. He held a gun, though it was pointed down at the ground, and Felix could tell that it had been recently used from the splatters of blood on his jeans. Kim Seungmin. There was a fair amount of fear on his face; he looked so different because of it than the pictures Felix had put on his office windows, but at the same time, he was unmistakable.

"Seungmin," Chan called. "What — ?"

"I'm ok, just took care of the two that had followed me," Seungmin told them. Felix grit his teeth. He must have been one of the three gunfighters Changbin had forced him past; his squad were slowly being picked off, one by one. Felix wished he could call for a retreat. Not that he cared, but they were all so useless that it would almost have been easier to do all of this alone.

"Help Jeongin, last I saw he was fighting off four," Chan told him.

"Minho was too," Changbin said.

"He'll be fine," Chan replied. His voice was firm and brokered no argument.

"But he's that way," Changbin said, pointing past Jisung and Hyunjin, "and Jeongin is that way."

The four of them looked at Felix, who raised his knife at them, but made no move to charge or to speak. Flanked again. Even if he were to defeat the six in front of him, he would have yet another enemy in either direction.

Seungmin raised his gun at him. For a split second, Felix thought that would be it — he was too close to dodge, far too close, but still too far away to do anything about it being pointed his way at all. He was about to steel himself to charge — better to die fighting than to just passively accept his fate — when Chan laid a hand on Seungmin's braced wrist and slowly lowered the barrel until it pointed back down at the ground. The look they shared spoke volumes, but it was nothing Felix could read.

Minsoo tsked and rolled his eyes in disgust. It startled Felix; that was the first thing he had heard from the strange man, and when he took the moment to look closer, he found the other’s fingers tensing next to his empty holster, his sharp eyes focused on Felix alone.

"I'll go around the block," Seungmin said. "Keep him distracted."

Felix wouldn't have gone after him anyway — well, he would have, but only if he was able to get past these five first. Behind Seungmin, Felix spotted Jisung help Hyunjin to his feet, though it seemed he still couldn't stand without support.

"Right," Chan said, fixing Felix with a weirdly cheerful grin. "Back to it?"

Seungmin darted into the alley opposite from the one he had spurted from, and Felix wasted no more time, charging the three remaining insurgents. That should be enough of an answer for anyone.

Chan deflected his first outstretched knife, but he couldn't block the punch Felix sent to his chest. The cut shirt fluttered oddly as Chan moved, and even more strangely as Chan put his hand over the middle of it, holding his cut and making the two halves of it billow in the light wind.

Felix kicked up at him. Changbin managed to knock him somewhat off balance, and Chan leaned back — that combination made Felix do little more than clip his nose and send his baseball cap flying. Chan's bleached hair bounced free, as much as it could with the sweat coating his brow.

As he stumbled, trying to regain his balance, he could feel Minsoo behind him. Too late to veer out of the way, all he could do was make a strained noise as Minsoo grabbed his forearm and twisted it up behind his back.

“I’ve been waiting a _long_ time to hurt you the way you deserve,” Minsoo hissed into his ear, his breath hot and heavy. Felix squeezed his eyes closed and turned his head away, and clenched his jaw so as to not say a word; he wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of seeing that he had gotten to him.

"There, hold him," Changbin cried. How rude — Felix should never be assumed to be held, or restrained; he would never let himself be forced in one place for long. So, despite the twinge in his arm and the way Minsoo forced him up onto the tips of his toes, he refused himself to be held.

He braced his foot against Minsoo's thigh, and before Minsoo could think to shake him off,forced himself to turn around in his grip and scrambled around his body to hang onto his back and place him into a chokehold.

The sounds were ugly; choking sounds were always ugly. Felix flexed his arms around Minsoo's neck, ignoring the smacking and tugging on his arms as Minsoo hunched over and stumbled back. Only when his head was slammed against a brick wall did Felix's grip loosen even slightly, giving Minsoo all that he needed to shove himself free and fall to his knees, gasping for air.

This was not the first time Felix had hit his head in a fight. Head injuries always made him feel grumpy and discontent, for some reason; it took him no effort at all to strike those awful feelings down, and he came to realize that he had also crumpled onto the ground, though he was not raggedly gasping for air as Minsoo was. It didn’t seem as if Changbin hovering over him and mumbling his demands to know if he was ok was helping Minsoo any, as his face contorted in pain or annoyance. Or maybe Changbin wasn't mumbling; maybe that fault was Felix's own.

He had no time to think about it before Chan's ferocious face burst fully into his view. Usually Felix would see that coming, usually he would be able to react, but all he could do with his ears numb and his nose burning was kick out as Chan lifted him up by his shirt collar, as much as there was one with the turtleneck he wore, and slammed him against the wall once more. Felix couldn't help but screw up his eyes as his head knocked back onto the brick again — it didn't feel as though he would get a concussion, but he'd try to keep himself awake anyway.

Chan seized his wrist, the hand that still held the knife, and slammed it against the wall next to Felix's head, once, twice. Despite his grip instinctively tightening when he felt the hand on his wrist, the knife tumbled from his loose fingers and clinked onto the floor. Chan kicked it down the street as Felix squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reorganize his scrambled brain.

"Stop fighting," Chan hissed at him. His voice came through muffled and warbled, but still clear, so Felix forced himself to dismiss the cotton in his head and focus on the fight still raging around him. Chan hadn't finished speaking, and Felix tuned back into him. "... fight you. Just come quietly and we can talk this out. We can _help_ you."

Felix's reply was to brace one foot against the wall behind him and lever himself up to kick Chan in the side, intimately close to the pained look that appeared on his face, and then kicked him right on the cut on his chest, where he had punched earlier. He was wearing thick, steel-toed combat boots, and so heard a satisfying thud both times. Chan had to stumble back, and Felix found his feet once more, taking a moment to regain his breath and take stock of the five insurgents remaining.

They had all largely recovered. Hyunjin stood on his own, and Minsoo had stopped wheezing; the five of them stared at him with intense eyes.

Felix calmed the shaking of his hands and drew his gun from under his coat. Chan sucked in a breath, and without taking his eyes off Felix, called out to the other four — "He has two! Remember our goal!”

“Forget your _fucking_ goal!” Minsoo shouted. “Are you insane? Will you seriously let yourself get killed for this asshole?”

“Just shut up and do what we told you, for Christ’s sake,” Chan yelled back.

_What goal,_ why wouldn't they use their own guns? Felix could see Chan's hand flex next to the holster on his hip, could see Changbin put his hand on Jisung's wrist. He shouldn't think about it. Just use the advantage they gave him.

Who to aim for — Felix chose Hyunjin, bracing his weapon pointed at his suddenly fear-stricken face.

"No — " Hyunjin gasped out, and Felix hesitated, because he always did, and that was enough for Changbin and Chan both to crash into him, barreling him down to the ground. All Felix could do was try to wiggle out of the crush of bodies holding him down, kick at wandering arms and hands until he was free. He'd kept his grip on his gun, but pointing it at Chan and Changbin tangled on the floor did nothing when Minsoo swooped in and kicked his wrist away from them. Felix spun the pistol around and swung the butt of it at him, but Minsoo always dodged back, leading Felix away from Chan and Changbin and towards Jisung and Hyunjin.

Flanked again; this fight wanted him to work hard for any kind of advantage. Jisung lunged at him, his knives out; with a firm grip on his pistol, Felix didn't sustain anything more than a couple light scratches on his hands. He'd had worse on cold, dry days without hand lotion. But he had been suitably distracted — he realized this when a foot slammed into the back of his knee, driving him to the ground, looking up at the three and then five that surrounded him.

This was a _very_ bad place to be. Felix could barely fumble with his gun, turning it the right way around as he attempted to stand up, before a fist he couldn’t name knocked him back down. Their faces swam above him, rendering his gun useless, but their feet on his level came through much clearer. He’d go for Hyunjin if he knew which pair he was; as it was, he hooked his ankle around a foot with gray Converse and black jeans and sent the insurgent crumbling to the ground with him. From the grunt, Felix realized it was Changbin.

He crashed himself into him, tangling them so close together that the other four wouldn’t be able to hit him without hitting their own, and from there attempted to roll out of the circle he had found himself in. Almost made it, too. Changbin seized his ankle, mindless of the fierce kicks Felix sent him, not letting him get above hip height.

Chan took the opportunity to kick Felix’s gun out of his hand. His grip on the thing had gone lax, and he could only curse himself for it once it had tumbled out of his desperate fingers. Mindlessly, by muscle memory, Felix instantly flicked out the knives that had been hidden under the sleeves of his coat and drew yet another line of blood, this time on Chan’s leg.

Without checking to see what happened to him, Felix dragged his free foot up to brace himself as he lunged at Changbin, his face showing the shock of Felix’s sudden change in direction, and stabbed him in the shoulder.

“Christ,” one of them cursed. “How many of those does he _have?”_

“I didn’t even see him pull those out,” another whispered. Felix tuned them back out and finally scrambled to his feet, outside of the circle. They were just empty words playing under the ugly sounds Changbin made.

He could do little more than take a deep breath and slide into a ready position before the next came at him; Hyunjin this time, still slow on the leg Felix had mauled but quick enough to elbow him in the neck and the stomach before he could block either. Felix rested his weight on his back foot, unable to step back, and kicked high at Hyunjin’s face, catching his chin and shoulder with the point of his toe.

Hyunjin caught his foot as it came down, unbalancing his already precarious position; Felix stumbled slightly, which was all Jisung needed, apparently, to dive in close to him with that wicked expression still on his face, his knives glinting in the yellow street lights.

Felix could do nothing but turn his face away and squeeze his eyes shut. In a way, he was lucky. The deep line Jisung scored into his face skipped over his brow bone and resumed itself on his upper cheekbone.

That piece of action done, Felix stumbled several steps away from the insurgents. Blood already poured out of his face, even as he clamped his hand over as much of the cut as he could. He couldn’t open his right eye and the vision in his right was still hazy from when he had hit his head. Still, he could make out the five insurgents; not the shake in Jisung’s hand that he was sure was there, but Changbin being sat against a concrete building, Chan hovering above him and pressing his hands against the wound on his collarbone. Hyunjin with his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. Minsoo charging him — Felix flicked his hand free of his own blood and waited for him and the other to clash.

With only one eye left, Felix could no longer keep track of the insurgents he fought, could no longer tell where attacks came from or block them before they landed on him. All he could do was strike out at where they had hit him a second after the fact, his movements growing more sluggish and slow. He still struck them even if his grip on his knives grew weaker. He could still lash out, punch, kick, drive his elbow into necks and his knee into soft stomachs.

It felt as if they had surrounded him once more, even if he wasn’t on the ground again. Attacks came from all directions, from any number of people. Maybe Minsoo circled him really quickly. Maybe Hyunjin and Jisung had rejoined the fight; maybe Chan as well, even Changbin with his busted shoulder. But he couldn’t wonder. He wasn’t allowed to wonder. Just react. Just let the fight flow through him.

A shove to his back sent him off-balance. Not that he had been well balanced for a while. But he stumbled, pitched forward, and a punch that should have hit his chest or neck or arm hit the side of his head instead.

He’d like to say that was when he passed out, but he didn’t get to do a lot of things he liked. Felix felt every second of the fall. He felt the moment his head slammed against the ground — and the entire world shuttered closed.

* * *

“ — you _killed_ him — !”

“I _didn’t,”_ Minsoo protested. “Besides, even if I did…”

Felix bit back a groan and cracked an eye open. No one was looking at him, so he pushed himself up slightly, popping up his knee and leaning back on an elbow so he could lift his bowling ball head from the ground. Gingerly, he touched the back of it. Not the place where he had hit the ground — he remembered that, of course, even though he had just woken up because it wasn’t as if he could forget — but the place where he had hit it on the brick wall twice. No blood. And as he moved his hand to the side of his head, where he _had_ hit the ground, it twinged slightly but there was no blood there either.

One of the first things Felix had ever learned was how to fall.

His hip ached like a bitch, and the palms of his hands were cut up from the gravel on the floor, but they had taken the brunt of the fall so he couldn’t bring himself to expect anything different. It could be so much worse.

“Would you _stop_ ganging up on me like this? So what if I killed him? None of you can deny that he deserved it.”

“It’s not _about_ him,” Chan hissed. “All of this is for so much more than just revenge. What happened to you, man? Why can’t you see that anymore? You’ve changed. I — you know what, I regret asking you to join this mission.”

Minsoo sucked in a quick breath, and the others were silent. Felix risked glancing over to see them all staring at Chan and Minsoo, who stood mere inches from each other; Minsoo towered over the other, but Chan’s entire body shook with an unspoken challenge.

Felix checked under his coat, and felt a familiar lump settled next to his ribs. He breathed a small sigh of relief — it didn’t seem like it was broken, and luckily it hadn’t gone off when he’d banged it against the walls and the ground.

“You know what,” Minsoo breathed. Chan flinched back slightly. Felix remembered the feeling of Minsoo’s hot breath on his ear and found he couldn’t blame him. “You’re the most idealistic fool I’ve ever met. I _hope_ he’s dead, and if he’s not, then I hope this whole fucking thing blows up in your face.”

Felix could hear Chan’s breath escape him in an angry hiss. “Fuck off.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chan hissed. “I don’t want to see your stupid face here, or anywhere near me or my team. I used to trust you. I used to _like_ you. But you’re nothing more than an ignorant, hateful asshole.”

Minsoo drew himself up with as much dignity as he could summon. “I wish I could say that it was an honor working with you, Bang Chan, but if I could find a way to squeeze all the hours you stole from me out of you, I would.”

The remaining seven watched him walk away with no little disdain. They didn’t even bother to try to hide it; that blatant display of obvious dislike was strange and foreign to Felix, and he stared at them in confusion, trying to balance this strange new thing with everything else that was in his bowling ball head.

“… not to change the subject, have we even checked his pulse?” Jisung’s voice. He had a nice voice — he sounded young, and Felix knew he actually was since they were almost exactly the same age, but he carried an enormous amount of confidence as if he knew his words would be heard. It was a weird time to muse about the qualities of his voice, but Felix’s mind tended to wander when he was disoriented.

This would be when they looked over at him, then. Felix greeted their stares with the business end of his remaining gun.

“I guess he didn’t kill him,” Hyunjin told the rest of them. Under his breath, he muttered, “Bummer.” Unfortunately, it carried, and Chan shot him a nasty look.

Chan was the first to put his hands up. “Hey,” he began, his voice gentle. “That was quite a fight, huh — ”

He stopped dead, the warning shot Felix had fired pinging off the ground right in front of his advancing foot. The rest of the insurgents became a shade paler, and watched him closely. Felix was no stranger to that and his hands did not shake.

“Okay,” Chan whispered. “… shit.”

There were more of them now, he noted, as he watched them just as closely as they watched him. The four he had fought, and who looked worse for wear for it; and maybe two or three more. He couldn’t tell. They were all so far away, and his head was heavy, ducking and weaving and making his vision blurry.

“Dude,” Jisung called over to him. “How are you not dead?”

Felix didn’t deign him with an answer, but fixed his gaze on him, willing his vision to steady. He slammed a hand on the ground, and slowly brought a knee under him, drawing himself to a painful kneel. Presumably his body shook, but he kept his gun straight, and supported it with both hands as soon as he was still.

“Your hair is a mess,” Jisung continued. Felix grit his teeth; he wouldn’t let himself waver. “That’s right, you’re known for your vanity, aren’t you? Always so neatly turned out. Does that get to you? That your hair is a rat’s nest?”

“Jisung,” Chan said.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever seen your forehead before and lived to tell the tale,” Jisung continued, heedless of Chan’s warning. Maybe he advanced a step. Felix couldn’t tell. “Do you always get this sweaty and gross after a fight? Is that why there are never any survivors? No one to see the disheveled Lee Yongbok.”

“Shut up,” Felix muttered. “You don’t know a _thing_ about why I do what I do.”

“He speaks!” Jisung declared, throwing his hands out and turning to give a triumphant face to the others.

Felix set his face, refusing to let himself actually frown, and shot him in the side.

Things got a little blurry after that. He remembered seeing Jisung’s hands snap to his wound, and watched his knees crumple under him, but he must have missed the look of anguish or shock or triumph that crossed his face. He was still mostly on the ground, and his head had turned into a bag full of bowling balls, so when they came to desperately kick his gun out of his hands, it fell from lax fingers without any resistance.

A foot hit his chin, snapping his head back, and Felix closed his eyes before his world slammed back into black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!


	3. Open Your Eyes, Look Up To The Skies And See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lee know in boxer voice: ok, hello, _asshole_

_“My eyes are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time._

_I am a blind man who stares across the hills, seeking stack’d fields_

_of other harvesters.”_

“Hey, are you awake?”

Felix did not reply, although he was. Instead he stared at the wall and ran his fingers over the knot that held his hands behind his back.

“God, you’re so annoying,” Lee Minho said, from where he was sitting across Felix in what honestly had to be some sort of old break room. It was all beige walls and grey couches and old vending machines that had probably seen so many awful things. Why they would put him in a break room rather than, say, a heavily barred cell, was beyond him. "Hello, _asshole_ , are you _awake?"_

In Korean, Felix said, "Sorry, I don't speak Korean."

"That's some bullshit," Lee Minho said. "Jisung said you spoke Korean just fine."

The mention of Jisung made Felix's jaw clench, though he quickly forced himself to relax, stepping on the rising anger as if he was trying to overfill a trash can. It didn't escape Lee Minho's notice, apparently, because he laughed. "Do you not like me mentioning Jisung? Han Jisung? He told us everything that went down between you all. The great Lee Yongbok... you're still sweaty, you know.”

No shit he was still sweaty. They'd dumped him in here after a long and tense car ride, with his hands tied behind his back and eyes blindfolded, and absolutely nothing had happened since. Well, they had taken the blindfold off. And Lee Minho had kept watch over him, presumably as they discussed his fate or sewed up Jisung. One of the two, or both. And they kept him awake. He had a concussion from hitting his head three times and being knocked out twice, and he needed to be kept awake.

Felix was no stranger to boredom, and no stranger to being bored while being watched. Minho was just another pair of voyeuristic eyes.

He kind of really wanted to get his wounds cleaned. The cut on his face had ceased flowing, but dried blood still crackled over half his face whenever it moved. And his bruises ached something fierce. Felix wanted to touch them.

"Aren't you tired?" Minho asked. Felix glanced over to see Minho giving him a more appraising type of look, his eyes hooded, a finger on the tip of his nose. He'd seen that look countless times before, from people who thought they could test him. People wondering where his limits were. "It's early in the morning. _I'm_ tired. We could both go to sleep right now. It would be fine."

It would not be fine and both of them knew it. Felix leaned his head back enough that it rested on the edge of the couch.

"I wouldn't tell anyone," Minho continued. "We could just... take a nap..."

He trailed off, and Felix glanced over to see his eyes closed. Things were still sort of fuzzy around the edges, and he couldn't tell if Minho was taking the piss or actually asleep. Either way, he acted like a good little captive, and sat there on that dingy couch with his hands tied behind his back. He ran his fingers over the knot, his fingers over the knot, his fingers over the knot.

Five or ten minutes later, the door softly opened. Minho's eyes opened as if they had never been closed, and the two of them watched as Yang Jeongin poked his head inside the room. "Um. Hello," he told them, and Minho grinned and stood.

"Come on in, Innie," Minho said. "The dog has no bite."

Despite the reassurance, Jeongin kept a wary eye on Felix still. "I actually brought something for him."

Felix sat up at that, to Minho's triumphant cackle. "What."

Jeongin turned a brilliant, if shaky, smile on him. "The, the groceries you got? We took the soju, sorry, but I figured you probably haven't eaten anything in a while." He produced the plastic bag and immediately became Felix's favorite.

"Oh, very smart Jeonginnie, except his hands are tied."

That made Jeongin flush. "Well — no bite, right? We could untie him."

Yes please. "Absolutely not," Minho said. "Are you an insane person? He's still, like, dangerous."

Jeongin ignored him in favor of staring at Felix. "Do you promise not to, I don't know, be mean or anything if we untie you? I feel kind of bad, the others have been drinking your soju and they're not letting me have any..."

"They're _what?"_ Minho exclaimed. "Without me?"

"Oh, yeah," Jeongin said, nodding enthusiastically and blinking his eyes up at Minho. "They're almost done with it, I think."

"Shit. Ok, Innie, you're in charge of the guy here, I'm gonna... go..."

"Yeah, hyung, go have fun, I'll just..." Jeongin waited until Minho was halfway out the door before mumbling the rest of his words. "Untie the guy and let him eat dinner, yeah, have fun." He turned to Felix with a brilliant smile. "Tah dah!"

Felix blinked at him. He was half tempted and half loathe to tell him _good job;_ he was still a part of the rebellion, after all, even if he was Felix's favorite. "Is it always that easy?"

Jeongin winced. "It's hit all of us pretty hard, so yeah, alcohol usually is enough to bribe them, especially if it's free. Or, you know, already paid for. Well, that's the same thing. You know what I mean. Either way, you promise? If I untie you, you have to promise that you’re just going to sit there and _only_ eat. And I guess breathe and stuff, don’t be facetious… But you have to promise.”

Felix blinked slightly. “I promise to sit here and only eat. And breathe and stuff.”

Jeongin beamed at that, and rushed to untie the knot that held Felix’s hands behind his back. “You’re not that bad a guy, you know. I thought you might bite my head off, to be honest.”

Felix was definitely that bad a guy, but he wasn’t going to tell Jeongin that. He just leaned forward silently and let Jeongin’s cool fingers brush over the knot.

“It’s a little weird, having you, of all people, just sitting in our room,” he continued. “You’re kind of famous. Not for a lot of good reasons, as you can imagine.”

“Infamous?” Felix suggested.

“What?”

“Famous but for bad reasons. Infamous.”

“Are you always like this?”

Felix shut up and let Jeongin finish untying his hands. As he sat back up and rubbed the thick indents from his wrists, Jeongin said, “Remember, you _promised._ I want to be nice to you.”

As if Felix believed that. Still, he’d be a good little captive, eat his food and let himself be tied up again once he was done. If all went well, they would lock him in a little room and let him rot there. That was all he wanted. Really.

“Here,” Jeongin mumbled, setting the plastic bag in front of Felix. “Sorry, it’s cold… sit there for a minute, would you? I mean, go ahead and start eating, but don’t move, okay?”

Felix focused his attention on the food before noting the door opening and closing with a soft click. His hands froze around the dosirak container (cold indeed) and he stared at the closed door.

He was alone.

Was this a test? Or was Jeongin honestly stupid? Did that door even lock? No — Minho hadn’t done anything when he left for soju. Felix could just _leave._ Or it was a test, and they were all waiting for him outside the unlocked door, their fingers twitching over the triggers of their guns.

Softly, as silently as he could, Felix withdrew the dosirak container from its plastic bag. It rustled in the silent room, making Felix wince, but he was able to set the container to the side and slowly rise to his feet.

The room was, unfortunately, windowless. It would have been too easy if there were windows. Other than windows, there was precious little; the couches, the dingy vending machine, a sad-looking plant with drooping leaves in the corner. It had been behind Felix where he sat on the couch, but it was the only thing of note, besides a truly pathetic inspirational poster in a dusty frame.

Well, he might be able to shatter the glass of the frame. Or break the frame, though it didn’t look heavy enough to be of any use. If the glass broke right, he’d have a good-sized shard, and though his head still wavered, it wasn’t anything as bad as it was before. Maybe he could even get out of this place. Figure out where he was and get back to his headquarters. Maybe the sun hadn’t even risen yet. He’d be down pretty much his entire squad, but he didn’t need them anyway.

Felix tore his gaze from the inspirational poster (for some reason, a dog with a muzzle falling out of an airplane like a paratrooper, with the caption COURAGE — he couldn’t imagine that dog being courageous at all) and looked over the room one more time. Nothing here but the chance to just go for it.

For some strange reason, his legs shook as he strode across the room to the door. Felix clenched his fist for a second before touching the doorknob. It was warm still — with all the thoughts running in his mind, it had only been a few seconds since Jeongin had left.

He opened the door to an empty hallway.

It couldn’t be this easy. It couldn’t.

With a shaky breath, Felix closed the door. He went back to the couch and sat next to his cold dosirak and stared at his feet.

_Why._

Maybe because he had already failed.

_Tell me why._

Even if he went back, he had failed. Gotten himself captured without taking even one of the enemy out. They had trained him better than that — they had trained him to never fail, to never accept failure.

_What are you doing, Lee Yongbok, if you are not accepting your failure._

The COURAGE poster sat behind him. The muzzled dog, frozen forever in midair, looking as if it had no idea what had just happened to it — shoved out of a terrifyingly loud metal cage thousands of miles in the sky and unable to even scream. It mocked him with its unbroken state.

_Take it, seize it, use it and leave it behind. Carve your way through this world. Time is a field of wheat and you are the lonely reaper. What is in your way will be cut down by the sharp sickle you are._

His foot didn’t jog up and down, though he knew that was what people did when they were nervous. He wasn’t nervous. Saying he never had been would be a lie, though it had been crushed from him when he was young, along with most of the rest of him.

_Move, lonely reaper, rise up once more and seize it and leave it behind. Move, Lee Yongbok, do not throw the purpose of your life into the face of those who have raised you._

Maybe because of Jeongin. He was so young.

_You were young._

And innocent.

_You were innocent._

No, he was never innocent. Many things, but never innocent.

The door clicked open. Felix clutched his wrist once more and pretended he had been trying to rub out the deep marks.

“You’re still here,” Jeongin said, sounding surprised. Felix raised his eyebrows at that. “No, it’s just — I realized I was being stupid. I didn’t really expect you to stick around.”

“There — ” Felix stopped himself. His hands stilled, and though his eyes were still pointed at his feet, he didn’t see a damn thing. Sudden revelations will do that.

_There’s nowhere for me to go,_ he would have said. What would they do to him if he turned back up, beaten and a failure? Wasn’t he supposed to be the best? What happened when the best was bettered?

“Uh,” Jeongin said. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

The dosirak remained untouched.

“Just caught up in my thoughts,” he mumbled, and snapped off the plastic lid. A plastic fork and a napkin were tucked into a plastic bag that laid on top of the cold rice, and he tore the thing open, catching them before they could fall into the food.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have a lot to think about,” Jeongin murmured. Felix snapped his gaze up as he softly stepped over, danger in his eyes before he noticed the wet paper towel he held up. With a small, wary grin, Jeongin said, “Just to wipe your face. You’ve got…”

“A lot of blood,” Felix guessed. “All over.”

“Yep. It’s a little gross, to be honest. Let me wipe it off for you.”

Felix had made a half-hearted attempt to grab the wet paper towel from him, but ended up just sitting there and tolerating the tentative swipes at his face. It felt a little nice, he wouldn’t lie, to let someone else take care of him like this. Even if Jeongin flinched back every time Felix so much as breathed, his hands were cool and careful, and though Felix also flinched when Jeongin tilted his head to the side, he felt better when there was… less blood on his face than there was before.

_Walk alone._

Jeongin pressed the cold paper to his still open cut, and Felix sucked on his teeth as a jolt of pain flashed over his entire face. It made Jeongin flinch so hard he sprang back, the paper towel crumpling in his hand from the shock of it.

_Tell me why._

“Oh — I’m sorry,” Jeongin said, and without needing to touch it, Felix knew his pulse fluttered like a rabbit’s. “Did — did that hurt?”

“It did,” Felix said through his teeth, where he had not moved a single centimetre. His head was tilted at an odd angle, and his gaze bore into the closed door, and his hands were clenched into fists on top of his thighs, but he did not move. “It’s fine.”

He closed his eyes and waited for Jeongin’s cool fingers again. When they didn’t reappear, Felix cracked his eyes open once more and sat back up.

“Oh — “ came Jeongin’s little noise. “Here, you can finish. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Felix muttered, accepting the outstretched paper towel. It was little more than grossly damp now, and flakes of what were either dried blood or compromised paper pulp fluttered down whenever he shifted it. “I said it was fine.”

Closing his eyes, Felix felt around on his face and scrubbed off the rest of the blood. A small bit oozed from a particularly deep spot, so Felix licked his thumb and pressed it to his cheek, pulling it off time and again to check the blood flow. When this scabbed, it would be so incredibly annoying. He didn’t think about when it would scar.

“Thanks,” he finally muttered.

“Just eat,” Jeongin said from where he had sat down in an uncomfortable-looking chair close to Felix’s sofa. His voice gentle. “Eating would be enough thanks. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry…”

“I already told you it was fine,” Felix said, taking up his dosirak once more and separating the cheap chopsticks. He picked around at some of the rice, lifting a few grains to his mouth and finding he wasn’t particularly hungry. Eventually, he managed to swallow some anyway. While he did that, Jeongin hesitated over the words he wanted to say, obvious in his nervousness.

“Not that,” he finally said, catching Felix off guard with a trembling voice. "You're a lot younger than we thought you were. And you're not a robot."

Felix slowly set the chopsticks down, where they had been halfway to his mouth.

"I am exactly what you think I am," Felix said, picking his words carefully. "Robotic and cruel and deadly. There is nothing for me but the hunt. I am nothing but the act of hunting and destroying people like you."

He had meant to scare the kid, had looked him directly in the eye and spoke in a low tone. In a strange way, it hurt him, to have someone so young and trusting place his faith in Felix, acting as if he deserved it, as if he could be rightfully trusted. Didn't he know Felix was dangerous? Didn't he know?

All that there was on Jeongin's face was a deep pity. No fear; as if he had never had use of the emotion, there was a complete lack there, only pity and sorrow and every single thing Felix realized he hated to see.

“Just eat,” Jeongin said, and Felix, suitably cowed, did as he was told.

Silence stretched the distance between them. Felix watched every nervous twitch Jeongin made; the food was tasteless and cold, but he shoveled it into his mouth anyway. The perfect little soldier.

Finally, as Felix picked at the last few grains of rice, Jeongin spoke again. “Why, um,” he began. “Why didn’t you leave?”

Very carefully, Felix snapped the empty container closed and placed it back in the plastic bag. He thought about not saying anything; it wasn’t like he really had a solid reason in the first place. There were excuses that he could call reasons, millions of them, and if he chose one then only he would know he was a coward.

“Where would I go?” he settled upon. “You and yours would find me before I found a way out of this building. It would be stupid of me to get into another fight with you.” _I have no idea where I am in the city, I still have a concussion, I think my whole team is dead and you killed them, if I go back I could be killed, you gave me food and cleaned my face, I don’t deserve to do anything but sit in a cell and rot, I don’t want to get you in trouble, I want to sit here on this couch in this beige and grey room forever, I failed and I don’t want to face the results of my failure._

_You’re scared,_ he told himself.

He was a coward. “Shouldn’t you tie me back up now?”

“Oh,” Jeongin breathed. For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn’t react; then he slid his head into his hands and laughed softly at himself. “I’m sorry. I’m really stupid.”

Felix said nothing to that, just watched Jeongin laugh into his hands. Not for the first time, he remembered how young he was; not that much younger than himself, but enough that watching him break down could be a tragedy.

“We’re all so stupid,” Jeongin murmured.

Before Felix could ask what he meant, the door opened once more. Half-expecting Lee Minho again, back after drinking the last of the soju, Felix was only slightly surprised to see Bang Christopher Chan staring at them, an unreadable look on his face.

“Shit,” Jeongin breathed. “Um.”

“Hey, Innie,” Chan said, covering his unreadable expression with something more pleasant. Carefully caring. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jeongin said, the words escaping in a rush. “Um — I just let him eat, we talked a little bit but he didn’t try anything.”

“Great.” Tension lined Chan’s eyes. “Can you give us a moment, please?”

“Right, of course,” Jeongin said at once. He left just as quickly, in the space between one blink and the next.

Which left Felix with the leader of the insurgents. If there was one of them that was the most dangerous, it would be him; the others had to look up to him for a reason after all. They stared each other down for a moment before Chan sighed.

“Why haven’t…?” he began, but shook his head and dismissed the thought. “You alright there?”

“You’ll understand when I say I’ve been better.”

“Yeah, Minho was telling us about how you wanted a shower,” Chan said. He was painfully obvious in his distraction, and Felix would have been offended if he cared. “Hear me out on this, and I’ll take you to get clean, alright?”

“Say what you want to say,” Felix replied. He had little intent to truly listen.

Chan spread his arms wide. There was a smile on his face that looked like it didn’t want to be there.

“Join my team,” he said.

Felix couldn’t help but stare.

It was mostly unintentional, but back in headquarters, Felix eavesdropped on a lot of conversations. Whenever they’d found him lurking nearby, there would be plenty of shushing and quick escapes, but he never brought them up even though he should have. Any opinion other than the right one was to be addressed and reported.

_These rebels are crazy, man._ He’d overheard one of his team gripe about it a handful of days ago. His teammate had agreed, but they noticed Felix not too long after, so he never got to hear the whole thought.

Now, though, he was convinced. These rebels were crazy.

“No.”

Chan’s smile morphed into more of a grimace. “You’re quick to dismiss this opportunity I’m giving you.”

“No shit,” Felix snipped back. “You can’t be serious.”

“I very much am,” Chan said, looking as if he would very much like to not be. “Join my team, I mean, what other options do you really have?”

Felix crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. The frame behind him crossed his mind once more, but he doubted he could get to it before Chan would get to him.

“Well, I’d ask you to just kill me,” he mused, “but for some reason you won’t.”

“What?”

Felix nodded at the holster still attached to Chan’s belt. “You and a few others were carrying, but you wouldn’t draw your guns. When your Seungmin pointed his gun at me, you _stopped_ him. Do you need me alive for something?”

“I mean… yeah,” Chan said, almost absent-mindedly. He seemed to catch himself, shaking his head and immediately tripping down a vague tangent, but the damage was already done, as it were. Felix hummed quietly to himself in thought.

“Would it kill you to pay attention to this conversation?” he griped. “Come on. I still have a concussion and you’re more distracted than I am.”

“Sorry, I’m just.” Chan waved a hand near his head. “I have a lot to think about.”

It was a poor excuse, and the both of them knew it. Felix wouldn’t allow it himself, but then again he wasn’t in charge of Chan, and had no obligation to play nice or offer advice. Especially not to this… drunk asshole.

“Think about this, then,” Felix said, leaning forward on his knees and staring up at Chan’s unfocused eyes. “You better shoot me or let me go, because I will never join your team.”

* * *

They eventually locked him into a sort of cell. It was in the same building, but they’d shoved a hood over his head and led him up and down several flights of stairs and around plenty of corners (though by his estimate, he was only a few floors above his break room).

The room was nothing special. The floors were carpet, and there was a bed in the middle of the far wall with clean sheets. (Seriously, why would they give him clean sheets? Who washed them? Where? Exactly how pissed were they that they had to wash sheets for the enemy?) Other than a dresser, a side table, and a small door that led to an even smaller bathroom, the room was void. No picture frames, no clocks, not even a lamp. Felix almost expected the Bible to be in the bedside table — the Gideons never gave up, even after all the heavy, secular revisions, they still considered this the word of God — but he wasn’t in a hotel, he was in a cell in a terrorist organization’s base, and he couldn’t forget or grow complacent.

Most noticeable was the lack of a window, though it came with the least surprise. No windows, no clocks, and nothing with which to pass the time.

Chan said he had free reign of the floor. Probably so he’d feel more “at home,” so he would consider the bullshit option of “joining the team” and helping them with their nefarious, ulterior motives. Indeed, when he tried the door it was unlocked.

The good news was that Felix was no stranger to boredom. That, and he was utterly exhausted — his concussion had finally faded, and he was left alone to sleep. That first night — day, rather — he must have slept for hours. There was no way to tell, but he felt well-rested, a rare occurrence considering his late nights and seven o’clock alarm. But his phone was back at base, and the warm lights embedded in the ceiling never changed.

Once they figured out that Felix wouldn’t leave his room, Jeongin took to bringing him food on the regular. He came once in the morning and once the evening — each time with a cheery “good morning” or “good evening”, which is how Felix knew — and would spend some time in the cell, making very one-sided conversation and slowly trying to wheedle Felix out of his room. He didn’t really have the heart to tell the kid to fuck off.

Besides, after the fourth day of Jeongin coming in to talk to him, he discovered that he couldn’t lock his door at all. That night was spent staring at the ceiling and trying to out-logic his mind.

Maybe it was because he was tired the next day, exhausted after a sleepless night spent wondering about when they’d come and smother him with his own pillow, that Jeongin finally managed to convince him to come out of his room. All he really had to do was say, “Come on, I’ll show you how the coffee machine works today,” and he had Felix trailing after him like a lost puppy.

His room was at the very end of a long hallway lined with other doors, all closed and indistinguishable from one another. At the other end, the hallway opened up to what was probably a common area. Jeongin led him through the cozy-looking place quickly, but Felix took note of the comfortable-looking couches arranged around a small television and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Through an archway at the other end of the room was a shorter hallway that led to what looked like the front door. The kitchen was to the right, and what was probably the dining room was on the left.

It was second nature for him to memorize unfamiliar floor plans, and usually he’d spend time going over it in his mind. But once he had his cup of coffee and was sat down with Jeongin at the kitchen’s little counter, it was impossible for him to do anything except stare out of the window at the city below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! if you're interested in a whole story that's,,, pretty much like this,,, i have a found family werewolf au up as well, [blood and bone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502860/chapters/61869736). and thank you for all of your comments on last chapter as well!! they really made me happy, and i hope this chapter meets your expectations. there'll be more action eventually, i know this chapter doesn't have any...


	4. I'm Just A Poor Boy, I Need No Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're like really emotionally invested in sitcoms. please remember that the views and opinions of my characters don't always necessarily line up 100% with my own lmao

“ _It would be good to see them . . . crook’d, split, and iron-ring’d handles_

_of the scythes . . . It would be good to see them, dust-caked and_

_blind. I hunger.”_

That was how the rest of them found Felix, holding a cup of coffee and staring out at Seoul. All of them had to do a double-take, and Felix didn’t blame them; other than that, some of them shrugged and went on with whatever they wanted to do, and some of them turned right on their heel and left. Eventually Chan wandered in wearing a loose t-shirt, too tired to think of anything other than coffee, and just about jumped out of his skin when he saw Felix sitting at the counter.

“What the fuck,” Chan whispered, and the spell of silence fell away. Felix hadn’t really noticed the quiet. “Where did you come from?”

Felix raised an eyebrow and sipped at his coffee. It was mostly empty, and barely lukewarm at this point, but he most likely couldn’t get away with another cup.

“I brought him to get coffee,” Jeongin said, pride evident in his voice.

  
“Really?” Chan asked. “Well, how do you like — ?”

Felix decided he did not want to be a part of this conversation. He peeled himself away from the counter, leaving the empty coffee mug behind, and headed out the door.

After a moment, he heard Jeongin rush to catch up with him. “Yongbok — ?”

Felix paid no mind to either him or the name and pushed forward, all the way through the others gathered to make it to his room. He stopped in the doorway, not letting Jeongin in, and looked at him askance.

“Everything good?” Jeongin asked, once it was clear that Felix would neither let him in nor say a word. “You left kind of quickly.”

“Let’s hang out later, if you want,” Felix said, and closed the door firmly. He waited a moment to see if there would be any knocks, but the door was blessedly silent.

So he brushed his teeth. Even after everything that had happened, he still cared about his appearance; the coffee would stain his teeth, and he had made enough sacrifices regarding his personal style already. They refused to give him a hair straightener, which was kind of fair, but resulted in his hair naturally curling and shooting straight out around his ears. It made him look younger than he really was, especially combined with the many colorful bandages holding his face together, and he didn’t like it at all.

Jeongin invited him to the kitchen again the next day. This time no one else tried to speak with him, and he was able to drink his coffee in peace. Jeongin tried to get him to join the others in the library afterwards, but a quick look around at the expressions on everyone’s faces shot that idea down very quickly. Felix wasn’t interested in the library anyway. The idea of all those books…

The two of them eventually did talk a little bit once Jeongin followed Felix to his room. Thankfully, Jeongin could carry an hour-long conversation on his own. Felix mostly sat there and listened to several long discussions about how good old television shows were.

“You should watch them with me one day,” Jeongin always told him. Felix always shrunk into whatever he was sitting into in response.

As the days wore on he began to spend a lot of time with Jeongin. Eventually he managed to wear Felix down enough that they migrated to Jeongin’s bedroom, where there was a small television and DVD’s of cartoons and old shows. _Friends_ was about as mind-numbing as what was on TV these days, and Felix kind of understood why they banned this particular show. Jeongin loved it. A lot.

_“So no one told you life was gonna be this way, DA DA DA DA,”_ Jeongin sang along with the show’s opening, poking Felix’s cheek when all he did was sigh and sink further into the cushions on the bed. _“Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s DEE OH AYYY_ —ah — ”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door, thank goodness. They had seen maybe ten episodes of this so far and Felix thought his brain was going to fall out of his head. Jeongin kept telling him that _this_ was the best season, but _this_ was the best episode of the worst season, and _this_ was an iconic episode, and hey they should play the States Game despite the fact that neither of them were American… he was pretty tired of it.

In any case, Felix could do little more than sit in Jeongin’s bed and hoped his escaped soul would come back to him eventually. Jeongin went to open the door, and after a small conversation he didn’t pay attention to, Seungmin joined the two of them.

He paused slightly when he saw Felix on the bed, but rallied tremendously. “What did you do to him? He looks dead,” Seungmin asked Jeongin.

“Maybe we’ve been binge-watching a little bit,” Jeongin told him. “I want to show him all the good episodes.”

“You’re killing him.”

“I am _not,”_ Jeongin declared. He flopped onto the bed next to Felix, who wheezed at the bounce. “I am giving him the education he sorely needs.”

“With _Friends?”_ Seungmin joined them on the bed, though much more gingerly. Felix didn’t waste breath telling him that he wasn’t going to bite.

“With the most iconic show of the nineties, yes,” Jeongin huffed. “It’s about the _friendship._ Obviously.”

“This is propaganda,” Felix croaked. “This is worse than what _we_ put on TV.”

“Oh, so you admit your stuff is bad?” Seungmin said.

“It’s bad on purpose,” Felix said. “I like the nature documentaries, though.”

_“Blue Planet,”_ Jeongin said, nodding sagely. “Anyway, we should keep watching.”

Felix groaned and pressed himself further into the cushions. Jeongin leapt right back into the theme song, belting, _”It’s like you’re always stuck in second geaaar, when it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your YEAAAR…!”_

Seungmin relaxed, only slightly, next to Felix. “At least it’s not _How I Met Your Mother,”_ he whispered.

* * *

Just like that, Felix found himself hanging out with both Seungmin and Jeongin to watch old TV shows. None of them were very good other than the one season of _Game of Thrones_ that had been made before everything happened, so Felix made them promise to let him watch a nature documentary for every ten episodes of whatever sitcom they wanted to see. It was a fair trade, he thought, especially since he tried very hard to pay attention to _That ‘70s Show._

Their relationship didn’t extend much beyond the TV, but Seungmin was the… third person, he thought, to finally talk to him without making a fuss about it. They chatted over coffee in the morning about what he thought about Ross (annoying), and if he was interested in watching _Monk,_ even though it wasn’t really a sitcom (he leapt at the chance, in all honesty), and maybe they could find a documentary that wasn’t about sea life, please? (His answer was usually no.) It was nice, really.

Then, one day, he managed to overhear a conversation between Seungmin and Chan. He didn’t know how he was able to eavesdrop without someone catching him — there were, after all, seven people in the house, besides himself — but he heard the low murmurs of their conversation and hid himself behind the doorway to the kitchen before they could notice him.

“… I am, and he’s alright before you say anything else,” Seungmin said. “He hasn’t tried to kill me yet, which I appreciate.”

“Yet,” Chan snorted. Felix figured they were probably talking about him, unless there was something he didn’t know going on between Seungmin and one of the others. “Hopefully it stays that way.”

“He’s not exactly jumping at the chance to murder me,” Seungmin said. “I think Jeongin rotted his brain with _Seinfeld.”_ Yeah, so definitely him. _Seinfeld_ had almost murdered him.

“Good,” Chan muttered. “If he ever does, though…”

“He’s surprisingly good company.”

“Does that really matter when he’s tried to kill all — well, most of us?” The two of them were silent for a long moment, before Chan spoke again. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re close with him. If the chance comes up, try to talk to him about…”

“Yeah, I can try, but we don’t really talk about much other than our shows,” Seungmin said. “I don’t know what else to talk to him about.”

“Ask him what it was like, what he remembers… I don’t know if I want him training with us yet, but maybe if we get him to watch _South Park_ he might loose enough brain cells that he’ll be relatively safe.”

“Oh, god, I don’t think Jeongin even _has_ that,” Seungmin griped. “Maybe we can watch _Twin Peaks_ and confuse him to death.”

“More like confuse _me_ to death, jeez. Anyway, my point is once we trust him enough you can invite him to train with you,” Chan said. “For now, just… try to open up other lanes of conversation. Ask him how his day’s going. His favorite color, for crying out loud, he’s got to have a favorite color, right?”

“Don’t be so sure,” Seungmin muttered. “Do you really think they would have allowed such a thing? But — yeah, I’ll try to talk to him more. It’ll be slow going, though. Yongbok doesn’t open up easily.”

Felix flinched at the name. He had almost forgotten that people called him that. Well — it wasn’t like they knew his _name,_ his real name. It just felt a little strange whenever he remembered that they knew him as _Yongbok._

“I figured,” Chan said with a sigh. “He still hasn’t tried to talk to me since that first night.”

“Do you really expect him to? Yongbok doesn’t try to talk to _anyone._ You’re going to have to make the first move.”

“Eugh, you make it sound weird.”

“It _is_ weird! He’s weird, hyung!”

“Not that kind of weird!”

Okay, now _they_ were being weird. Felix was about to turn away, deeming the conversation over, before he heard Chan sigh and speak once more.

“Just… try not to get too invested. I’m not sure how long he’s going to stay with us. We’re not the only ones who wanted to get our hands on him. Once we get what we want, I was thinking we could send him off to Jihyo and Sana, or Jaebeom and the others…”

“Didn’t Sungjin want him too? I think I heard Wonpil-hyung talk about it when we were making plans.”

“There’s a lot of people who want a piece of him,” Chan said. “We’re lucky we got him first. Maybe we can sell him off to the highest bidder, eh?”

Oh. Okay.

Felix didn’t want to hear any more — he turned away and silently left Seungmin and Chan in the kitchen to discuss — what — selling him off to their friends? His fate in their hands? It made sense. He hated how much it made sense.

He was so stupid. Staying here wasn’t sitcoms with Jeongin, or Chan’s instance that he join their team, or drinking coffee while looking at the city’s skyline — all of that was nice, but it was all a very beautiful _lie._

Yeah. All of Chan’s talk of him joining the team. More lies, and he had fallen for them like the idiot he was. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different from them. What could he even do in the face of all these lies? What did people do when they found out they had been _lied_ to?

Felix wandered through the hallway in a daze. He had the vague goal of escaping to his room, and trying to think of what he could do next, but as he wandered by Jeongin’s room, he was interrupted by the boy himself peeking out and greeting him.

Felix stared at him for a moment. Did he know too? Was he in on the secret?

Jeongin’s face squeezed into worry and confusion. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Felix began, but he found that he had no words to say.

“Do you… want to come in? We can watch — ”

“No,” Felix said, uncaring of how he cut Jeongin off. “No, thank you — I just — ”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongin said, his voice too quiet, too gentle. “Come in. Let’s just watch TV, yeah?”

Felix stared at him a moment longer, and, without thinking too hard about it, went with him.

Jeongin directed him to sit against the headboard of his bed and covered him in soft blankets. Felix protested, but was cut off every time with Jeongin tugging the blankets over his mouth. When it was determined that Felix couldn’t move, Jeongin took out a VHS tape and began to play an old cartoon on his television. That was cool. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand a sitcom right about now.

_“Sugar… spice… and everything nice! These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girls,”_ the narrator on the show told him. Felix squinted at the overly bright colors.

“What’s this?” he asked.

_“But Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction… Chemical X!”_

Jeongin flopped onto the bed next to him with a bright smile. _“The Powerpuff Girls._ It’s an old cartoon, I thought you would like it.”

“It’s so… bright.”

_“Thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born! Using their ultra super powers, Blossom! Bubbles! And Buttercup — have dedicated their lives to fighting crime, and the forces of evil!”_

“… have you ever seen a cartoon before?”

Felix cringed away from the TV screen as it began to blare the show’s theme song. “No?”

“Mm, should have guessed,” Jeongin sighed. He settled back against the headboard, stealing a blanket from an unprotesting Felix, and for a while they watched the show in silence.

Felix didn’t really get it. He only half paid attention, but it was harder to look away from this… distinct color palette… than it was to ignore the live-action shows they’d seen so far. There was no real story that he could figure out, and he could barely recognize the girls as human — was the one thing supposed to be a monkey? Or an ape…? But it was green…?

Whatever. He knew he wasn’t supposed to think too hard about it; it was obviously a show for kids, after all, and all that really mattered was that it was bright and colorful and cute.

“So… what happened?” Jeongin finally asked as that green monkey — who was in jail for some reason — nattered on and on to himself about how much he hated the Powerpuff Girls.

Felix just shook his head and sank deeper into the blankets. He wasn’t ready to talk, and understood that about himself, though it was some work to try and forgive himself for it. For once, he was grateful for the mindlessness of these old TV shows. He didn’t want to think about _anything._

“… are you alright?”

“‘m fine.”

“You’re not,” Jeongin said. “Did someone say something to upset you? Am I going to have to talk to them?”

“No,” Felix said at once, his heart squeezing in his chest with a sudden spike of fear. “No, don’t — ”

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Jeongin said, speaking calmly in the face of Felix’s obvious distress. It only kind of worked to calm him down. “But… whatever happened affected you badly. It’s okay if you’re not totally alright, you know.”

“I know. I… I’ll talk to them when the time is right.” Felix needed time to let his shock settle and his anger to rise to the surface. His emotions were slow-moving at best, and it would be a while before he was able to process what he had heard Chan and Seungmin discuss. When he did, though…

They had lied to him. All of them had, even Jeongin.

Felix looked at the other. It was almost unfair, how young and sweet he was; it was hard to imagine a face like that could lie to anyone, but he _had._ And Felix could not forget. It was all lies.

_“Boy, oh, boy,”_ the narrator of the show said. _“Those boys are b-b-bad to the bone!”_

“Hey, Jeongin?” he asked.

“Hm? Yeah, what’s up?”

“What do Chan and the others really want from me?”

The words gave Jeongin pause, and he stared at Felix for a long, long moment. Onscreen, the boy versions of the Powerpuff Girls wrecked havoc across Townsville. “For you to join us, I think.”

“You — ” What an offense. Felix threw off the blankets and got up from the bed, looking down at Jeongin, who laid there frozen. The sounds of the cartoon came through in the background, but neither of them paid attention to it, staring each other down instead. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“Of course I haven’t,” Jeongin whispered. “Yongbok — ”

Out of his control, Felix's face twitched with the offense of that name, rearing back and almost sneering at Jeongin, who finally flinched away from him.

"Don't," he hissed. "Don't call me that.”

“Please, I — ”

“I shouldn’t have forgotten who you are either,” Felix continued. “All of you. Your whole rotten crew! How could I have forgotten? You _lie._ That’s what you _do._ All of this — ” he gestured to the television behind him, flashing its bright colors onto Jeongin’s wary expression — “is just a lie!”

“We don’t _lie,”_ Jeongin protested, but Felix rolled right ahead, incensed by how easily the lies came.

“Don’t you? That’s the whole point of whatever it is you’re doing here. How can you stand for it? How can you possibly think that you’re doing the right thing?”

“It _is_ the right thing,” Jeongin cried. Felix scoffed. “It is! We _need_ art in the world, Yoh — we — we just need it. What’s the point of living if there is no art? Who _cares_ if it’s a lie? Things should be allowed to be beautiful, even if they aren’t perfect. Even if you don’t think they should exist. _That’s_ the point of all this. To defend our right to create, and to find beauty in untruthful places. Who cares if it’s a lie when it’s beautiful?”

“There are too many ugly lies for the beautiful ones to matter,” Felix said. “It’s not about the stories, and it’s not about the art. It’s about how people hurt other people, it’s about betrayal, and secrets, and _trust_ — don’t you want to be able to trust the people you talk to? Isn’t that _important?”_

“Of course it is,” Jeongin murmured. “But getting rid of art isn’t the right way to go about it.”

“Then you need to figure out what the right way _is._ If your only goal is to restore _stories_ to the world, then you aren’t going to go far at all.”

Jeongin sucked in a breath, ready to argue, but paused — and let the breath go. He and Felix stared at each other for a moment longer.

“Please just get out,” Jeongin whispered.

So Felix turned and left, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was too furious to think, and stormed towards his room; but that space, barren and lightless and strange, was too much for him, and he found himself out in the hallway once more, directionless, lost.

He had a vague sense of where everyone’s rooms were. As always, his own loomed at the end of the hallway; on either side four doors lined the walls, one for each of these _people_ —

Felix felt himself tremble with unexpressed emotion. He found himself in front of Chan’s door — out of all of them, _all_ of them, Chan was where his problems started and where they could end; he made the decisions, he had brought Felix into the fold — or at least he had tried to — 

He still hated them. Being with them, in their house for so long, made them warily tolerate each other; but he _couldn’t_ forget, couldn’t let himself forget — as much as he wanted to forget it all — 

Felix tried the door. It was unlocked.

The sounds of the others filtered to him from the opposite end of the hallway. Chan’s laugh pierced through him.

So he let himself in.

Chan’s room was about what he expected, albeit dim with the lights still off. The bed was pushed against the wall, and the desk was covered in sheets and sheets of paper spilling over themselves; there was a small bookshelf tucked into the corner, and an acoustic guitar next to that. Some posters lined the walls and little decorations were scattered over the desk and the bookshelf.

Felix closed the door behind him and explored a little. Chan’s room had a window that looked out at a couple buildings close by, and at the street below — Felix peered down at the people walking by, fiddling with the leaves of the potted plant on the windowsill. A couple cars passed by.

It had been forever since he left this… was it an apartment? An old office building? At least it felt like forever. He missed walking around outside.

There was little else to do while he waited. He poked around the papers on Chan’s desk, reading a few reports in progress — mostly about him — and mission plans that had to be approved. He entertained a vague thought of breaking out and bringing these back to his old headquarters, and realized that he probably should — they were about five floors above ground, enough for him to scale down, probably — but for some reason all he did was throw the papers back onto the desk and sit in the desk chair.

Weakly, he thought, _Tell me why,_ but the thought ran around and around his head without him bothering to search for an answer.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps approached. Felix watched the door intently, waiting for it to open, _waiting_ for Chan’s voice to stop talking to the others — he had things he wanted to discuss, and he didn’t want to wait a moment longer.

Finally, finally, the door creaked open, and Chan flicked on the lights. At once, Felix said, “Secrets are about as bad as lies, Christopher.”

Chan screamed and collapsed against the wall. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ! What the hell! Oh my god, I thought you were going to murder me!” he yelled, though the words didn’t have much support behind them. “Why are you in my _room?”_

Felix let his lip curl back, slightly, only for a moment. “Let’s talk.”

“I — if you want to talk, I’m always here, but _fucking hell_ — ”

“Who’s Jihyo?”

Chan froze. Felix fiddled with the papers on his desk, lifting them and peeking at what was written; it was nothing that he didn’t know already, though it was interesting enough to see what Chan and the others thought of him.

“There’s nothing there about Jihyo,” Chan said.

“Nope. Or about Sana, or Jaebeom and the others, or Sungjin and Wonpil-hyung.” Felix directed his gaze to the papers, but listened closely as Chan walked to his bed and sat down. He waited for a second to see if Chan would say anything, and when he didn’t, he bulldozed on. “Are they all part of your District 9 as well?”

“They are.”

Buried underneath stacks of loose paper was a little plastic bag of old Korean won. Notes and coins. Felix fished one out and noticed that, instead of the 1 mark, a small 9 had been carved. He flipped it around. On the other side, where the date and mint mark would be, were the letters _SKZ._

“A subunit, as it were…” he muttered to himself. He spilled the rest of the coins out onto the desk. Most of them were legitimate, but the smallest of them — the ones that had been replaced by nines — had their mint marks replaced by various combinations of letters and numbers. _SKZ_ appeared more often than the rest of them.

In English, he asked, “What does _ess kay zed_ stand for?”

Chan shifted on the bed and answered in kind. “Stray Kids.”

Felix turned one of the _SKZ_ coins over and over between his fingers. “You know, you’re not as high up in this… hierarchy than I thought you were,” he said in Korean. “Are you. I wonder who you write reports to. Why _Stray Kids?”_

“That’s what we do,” Chan said. “We… stray.”

“You’re kids who have strayed.” Felix put the coin on the desk and spun it on its rim. The two of them watched as it fell down, and as it landed on the floor, Felix shifted his gaze to Chan.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Chan sat stick-straight on the edge of the bed, in contrast to Felix, who all but lounged in the desk chair. Neither of them had much expression on their face, but Felix could almost taste the tension between them.

“I heard you talking to Seungmin earlier,” he said, finally.

“What’d you hear?”

“You’re planning to ship me away,” Felix said softly, more to himself than to Chan. Somehow it felt as if the words had hurt him. They punctured his heart, his lungs, and made his next breath difficult. “Extract everything you can get out of me, and sell me off to the next group of people who want to know everything there is to know…”

Chan was silent, his face stone. Felix turned back to the desk, though he chose not to rummage through any more of the papers; what use would that be? Wasn’t it obvious that he was never going to leave this place? These people?

“I’ve lied before,” Felix confessed to the desk. “A couple times. I could get away with it; I know that’s a luxury. And I figure I’m going to hell anyway. What’s another… sin.”

“It’s not a sin.”

“Sure it is. It’s painful to learn that you’ve been lied to. I’ve felt a lot of pain before,” Felix said, spinning around in the chair and looking up at the ceiling. “It’s my job, to be hurt. I’ve been injured in a hundred million ways; I’ve been waiting to die since I was born, I think. I wonder how badly it will hurt, and if it’ll keep hurting after. I don’t deserve anything else but to hurt for the rest of eternity. You and I both know this.”

He looked at Chan, who stared at him in confusion, probably wondering where Felix was going with this. It must be nice to be able to replace your brains with sitcoms, and cartoons, and books, and songs, and lies.

“But the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” Felix said, “and I don’t even understand why it hurt so much — I don’t like you, and I certainly don’t trust you, especially not now — that terrible pain, that pain that confused me and scared me and made me want to cry and scream and hurt you… that came to me when I realized that _you had lied to me.”_

“I’m sorry,” Chan whispered.

“No, you’re not,” Felix said, resigned to the fact of it.

“I _know_ it hurts to be lied to.”

“Then _why?_ I talked about it with our maknae earlier. This is not about the art, or the stories, or the beautiful things that can be found in untruths. It’s about how people hurt each other, and you _hurt_ me, Chan, you really, really — ” Felix had to stop there, and take a breath, aware of the frustration and anger rising once more. He couldn’t hold it back much longer, he knew.

“But it’s human nature to create,” Chan said, inching forward on the bed and gesturing to Felix in supplication. “Don’t you understand? Do you ever feel the urge to put something beautiful into this world? To make your mark?”

“My mark has already been made,” Felix said, swallowing down his anger. “The whole world knows it.”

“That’s not the end of your story! You have so much more to show the world, I know it — ”

“Are you serious? You’re seriously telling me that I should just — what? Write a book? Sing a pretty little song? After everything I’ve done? That _you’ve_ done to _me?_ Fuck’s sake, Christopher, just admit that you only want me for the information I can give you. Just say it so I can tell you and move on to the next group that wants a piece of me!”

“You are _ours!”_ Chan said. “Everything you heard about me sending you off — just because people want you doesn’t mean we’re going to — to give you away! And even if we did. Even if, it would be to people we trust, who would do the same work with you that we’re doing. We wouldn’t hurt you, and neither would anyone we trust.”

“Are you kidding me? All you do is lie,” Felix hissed. He rose to his feet, and Chan matched him at once; they stared each other down as their voices began to fill the room. “I _don’t_ trust you, and I don’t trust the people you trust. How could I? You lied, _to my face,_ and I was stupid enough to fall for it!”

“You have a right to be angry,” Chan began, though the words rang insincere as he began to boil over as well.

Felix quickly cut him off with a quick hand gesture. He wasn’t interested in anything Chan had to say. “Don’t I? Every time you say that, I feel like I shouldn’t be mad. I’m not interested in managing my emotions when you lie to me and tell me nonsense!”

“I’m not telling you nonsense — ”

“Aren’t you, though?”

“I _do_ want you to join my team!” Chan said quickly, before Felix could cut him off again. The words stunned him long enough for Chan to finally continue. “I — I really do. But there’s a lot of work that you — that _all_ of us have to do before that can happen. And… I can believe in you all I want, but that doesn’t change all of the wrong you’ve done in the world.”

“If I gave a pound of flesh to everyone who deserved it, there would be nothing left of me,” Felix said. “It would be easier to just kill me. Or do you want me to repent for my sins first? Okay, fine. _I’m sorry._ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, there will never be enough time for me to say _I’m sorry_ enough to make you believe me. There. You can kill me now and be done with it.”

“You stupid little — I am _not going to kill you,”_ Chan hissed. He grabbed Felix’s upper arms and shook him in time with the words. “Get that through your stupid head! You’re worth more alive than dead.”

“And if I wasn’t?” Felix asked. He stared at Chan in defiance, uncaring of how close they were, how angry and frustrated and annoyed Chan was, of the tight grip on his arms that was sure to bruise. “If I was more trouble than I was worth? Would you kill me then?”

“What do I have to _fucking_ _say_ to make you believe that I _want you around?_ ” Chan yelled. “Huh? What’s it going to take!”

“You can say the same thing for a million years, and I would never, _ever_ believe you!” Felix shouted back. “Get off — _get off_ _of me!”_ He tore himself from Chan’s grasp and stumbled back, rubbing his arms where Chan’s grip had tightened more than he could stand.

The two of them stood in silence for a long moment, in the quiet of Chan’s room, looking at each other. Felix wondered what Chan was thinking. How he was going to lie next.

“I wish you had lived a better life, in a better world.”

“Shut up.”

“Yongbok — ”

Felix threw his head back in anger and stepped backwards towards the door. “Don’t you fucking call me — !”

Before he could reply, however, someone knocked on the door. The words came through muffled, but they could hear Minho ask, “Chan? Are you alright in there?”

Chan ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Felix. “Don’t call you what? Yongbok?”

Another knock. “Chan?”

_“Yeah,_ I’m — !”

“How much do you know about me?” Felix asked.

“Close to nothing,” Chan snapped, furious from the constant interruptions. “You’re like a ghost.”

_Good,_ Felix thought, as the knocking continued. He knew all about ghosts.

_“Chan?”_

Felix raised his eyebrows at him and turned to open the door. He was met with Minho, whose fist was raised, ready to knock the door down. He looked at Felix in surprise. Most of the others were clustered behind him. Felix’s eyes found Seungmin’s, who stared at him with more concern than the others, though it wasn’t really much.

“What did you do to him,” Minho began, a low fury rising in his voice. Felix looked at him askance.

“Calm down,” Chan said from behind him. He sounded about as tired and annoyed as Felix felt. “We just… talked.”

“Seriously? _Just_ talked? Yeah, we could hear your _talk_ from all the way down the hall,” Minho said, snapping every word like a rubber band on Felix’s skin. “You were screaming at each other.”

“So we got a little angry.”

“You get a little angry, we get a little worried. You don’t anger easily, Chan.”

“What do you want me to say?” Chan sighed, shoving Felix out of the way to lean against the door. “Do you not believe me?”

Felix certainly wouldn’t. He put his hand over the spot where Chan had shoved him and silently pushed through the others. They paid him little mind, more invested in Minho and Chan’s conversation — it sounded like it was turning into another argument, but Felix couldn’t care less. He just wanted to leave.

He made it maybe two steps away from the pack before a hand landed on his wrist. Maybe it was panic, or desperation, or instinct, but in the time it took for whoever it was to say “Wait — ” Felix had already twisted out of the grip and shoved the other away.

Seungmin looked at him with a look of betrayed confusion. The others turned to stare at the two of them, and Felix felt — small — under the heaviness of those eyes, as if a small creature pinned under the weight of something vast and big and incomprehensible.

He backed up a step, and then another, and then turned and ran. The instinct of _not safe, not safe,_ thrummed in him and made him push his bedside table against the flimsy door that had no lock, and he disappeared into the bathroom. Only then did he feel even the slightest bit secure, and only then because that was the only door he knew with a lock.

That night, he slept in the bathtub.

* * *

He didn’t come out of the bathroom all the next day. He heard Jeongin come in to leave him food, once in the morning and once in the evening, but he said nothing both times and refused to go out to eat. Not for lack of trying on Jeongin’s part. It felt a little like when he had first arrived, though there was even less human contact.

“You’re going to have to eat eventually,” Jeongin told him through the closed door. He left a few minutes later without an answer.

Felix didn’t try to go out and get the food. It made him irrational and stupid, he knew; but he couldn’t trust that there wasn’t anyone out there, or that Jeongin had actually left, or that they weren’t waiting on him from the other side, ready to finally make him talk. What did they even want him to say? At this point, he’d say just about anything.

Only a few minutes after Jeongin left, there came another knock at the door. Felix just sank lower in the bathtub and waited for whoever it was to go away or make their way in.

“Hey,” whoever it was said. Felix recognized Seungmin’s voice, muffled as it was through the door. “You in there?”

Felix said nothing. Of course he was here. There was nowhere else he could possibly be.

“A knock, or something, just so that we know you’re alive…” It was barely a sound through the door, but Seungmin sighed, and was quiet for a while. “We all had a talk yesterday after you stormed off. ‘Cause that’s what emotionally balanced people do when they’re upset. They talk. We talked a lot about you.”

That much, Felix believed. These Stray Kids must talk about him a lot when he wasn’t around. He thought about telling Seungmin that he wasn’t interested in being emotionally stable, or balanced, or whatever; that he was completely justified in storming off and not talking and sleeping in the bathtub.

“No one else said anything about it, but… thanks, I guess, for sharing your thoughts on what we’re doing here,” Seungmin continued. “We’re not above criticism. Though we tend to get a little defensive when it comes unexpectedly. So… maybe one day we’ll see things from your view. Maybe you’ll see things from ours. We can only hope.”

Privately, Felix thought it would take a miracle for him to see the world from their perspective. He might have scoffed a little, because Seungmin didn’t wait as long to keep talking.

“And when you talked to Chan-hyung and Jeongin, you said something to both of them about not wanting to be called… by your name,” he said. “Why? What else are we supposed to call you? What’s wrong with Yongbok?”

Felix drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly. He knew he didn’t have a good answer as to _why._ He had never really liked it. It just… felt wrong. Strange. As if Yongbok was a different person, a different title for a different time in his life. It was a dramatic way to say that he hadn’t worked out or planned a mission for a couple weeks.

Seungmin took a while before he spoke again. “You don’t have to tell me now, I guess. I just… thought we might have been getting close. Beyond what you heard me and Chan talking about. He didn’t send me here, and I didn’t come because he wants me to try and get information from you. You… we aren’t friends, not yet, not exactly, but… I enjoy your company. You haven’t tried to kill me, and I appreciate that.”

_I did try to kill all of the people you do consider friends,_ Felix thought. There was no need to say it; he knew, and Seungmin knew.

“I… I’m sorry,” Seungmin whispered. Felix heard him thump against the door, and then slide down until he sat down with another loud noise.

Felix waited for a moment. “Why are you sorry?”

“Oh my god, thank god you’re alive,” Seungmin burst out. “I thought you were dead for _so long.”_

Felix bit back a sigh, already regretting making this a conversation instead of just an awkward monologue. “Just answer the question. Please.”

“I — I’m sorry for trying to shoot you.”

_“What?”_ Felix scrambled out of the bathtub and crouched next to the door. He couldn’t hear any better, but some stupid, illogical part of him needed to be close to hear the story behind _this._

“I’m sorry for trying to shoot you,” Seungmin said once more. “Back when we were fighting you. I almost shot you.”

_“Why_ are you sorry?”

“Why? Because I would have felt really bad if I did,” Seungmin cried. “I wouldn’t know the kind of person you are. I mean, you sit through Jeongin’s sitcoms. Do you think just anybody would do that? I don’t know how, or why, but you’ve somehow made me care about you, and I don’t want to think about a world where I had shot you in the street!”

“Don’t you ever be sorry for trying to shoot me,” Felix shot back. “We were _enemies._ I was trying to kill all your friends, or did you forget? And we’re enemies still!”

“Oh my god, I see why Chan got angry enough to yell at you,” Seungmin groaned. “Why? _Why_ do you think we’re enemies right now?”

“I’m not allowed to leave the _flat!_ Seungmin, this is a _prison._ You and everyone else keep me here against my will; sure, you show me cartoons, and funny TV shows, but none of it’s _real._ None of it means that we’re _friends.”_

“What’s your name.”

_“What?”_

“Just tell me what your name is!”

_“Why!”_

_“Because I want to be your friend!”_

The force of Seungmin’s yell knocked the words right out of him. Out of both of them, it seemed; neither of them spoke for a long moment, and Felix’s chest heaved with the force of his anger.

But he was too tired to be angry for long. Somewhere in that talk, he had risen to his feet; now, as he calmed down and felt himself deplete, he sank down to sit on the floor once more.

This was a really shitty idea.

“I…”

“Please,” Seungmin whispered. It sounded as if he had spoken right next to Felix’s ear, and he imagined that they were sitting mirrored each other, both of them clutching at the door as if it was the only thing keeping them steady.

“It’s — it’s Felix.” The word felt like a vice squeezing his chest and a lump in his throat and a lightness running through his body all at once. It had been forever since he’d heard it in his own voice, let alone another's. How strange it felt, to give away something that had been locked away for so long.

“Felix, I…” Seungmin began. He hesitated, maybe thinking of what he wanted to say, maybe examining the name again and again in his mind. Either way, the next words came out stronger, more determined. “Felix, I want to be your friend. Honestly.”

“Being my friend is a _really_ shitty idea.”

“You think I don’t know?” Seungmin waited for an answer, and sighed when he didn’t get one. “I… I’ll leave you alone now. I know you need space. I just… I hope that when you need someone to talk to, you’ll talk to me. And — eat something, okay? We didn’t poison the food or anything. I’ll — I’ll see you later, Felix.”

After a moment, Felix heard the soft sounds of footsteps walking away from the door, and then the soft click of the door closing. But he stayed in the bathroom.

Why should he trust them? _Why_ had he given Seungmin his name? It didn’t feel right; didn’t sit well with him. But… it didn’t feel wrong, either. He didn’t regret it.

Maybe they’d start calling him _Felix_ from now on. It had been strange enough hearing it from just one person — when was the last time anyone had called him that? Would it be overwhelming?

The thought almost scared him. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.

Maybe it would be fine. Maybe everything would be okay.

He’d just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go, thank you all so much for so many comments and kudos!! We've reached 700 hits on this fic _already_ and I'm so in love with each and every one of you. Here's to the journey we're going on together. mwah.
> 
> EDIT (one day!! after posting omg): THANK YOU so much for 100 kudos!!! You all are the best. I can't believe it, I feel like I need to give an Oscar's thank-you speech... i'm just glad you all actually like this. I'm working hard to give you guys a good story. Hopefully it's paying off, lol. <3


	5. Because I'm Easy Come, Easy Go; Little High, Little Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~✨DOUBLE UPDATE✨~

_“(Dusk is a strange fear’d sheath their blades are dull’d in.)_

_My throat is dry. And should I call, a cracked grain like the oats_

_. . . eoho—"_

Seungmin found him the next day sleeping in the bed.

He set a plate of food and a cup full of coffee on the beside table, and Felix rolled over, blinking as he smelled the drink.

“Good morning, Felix,” Seungmin said.

Oh, it was much too soon after waking for that. Felix dragged himself up to sit against the headboard and grabbed the coffee, sucking half of it down in one go. He might have grumbled something like “good morning” back.

Seungmin smiled for a moment and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”

This was awkward. Felix sipped the coffee in an effort to not make eye contact. Thankfully Seungmin seemed to take the hint when Felix kept silent, and the two of them sat in silence together as Felix nibbled at the food on the plate.

“I told the others,” Seungmin said, finally. “About your name.”

“Thanks,” Felix mumbled. Even with the coffee, he still felt tired and a little delirious. “How was it?”

“Well, they know it’s your name now,” Seungmin told him. “I don’t know if they’ll all use it, though; more than a few of them ignored me.”

That was understandable. Out of the seven of them, only three had made the effort to even speak to him; and asking them to act as his messenger wouldn’t make anyone favor him.

Felix looked into his empty cup. There was a tiny amount in the bottom that ran in circles when he twirled it around.

“Can I get more?”

When they found their way to the kitchen, everyone else was already inside, talking with each other and finishing up their own food. Felix froze in the doorway, and Seungmin took a couple steps in before pausing and looking back at him askance.

Jeongin was sitting at the counter. Their eyes met, and Jeongin abruptly stood up, cutting off Minho, who was talking to him, and stormed out of the room, pushing past Felix as he did so.

His dramatic exit caught everyone’s attention, and one by one they turned to look at Felix. He shrank in the doorway, and would have fled, if Seungmin didn’t grab his wrist and haul him into the kitchen with force. Brave of him, especially considering what had happened the other day. Felix felt his whole arm tense and forced himself to relax.

A few of the others followed Jeongin on the way out, but most of the others stayed, going back to their conversations, though not without side-eying Felix every now and again. Seungmin directed him to sit at the counter, not in Jeongin’s empty seat thank goodness, and told him that he’d have to wait a little bit for the coffee pot to refill.

“Does he hate me?” Felix asked, eying the coffee pot, which was gurgling happily, and the kitchen, which was full of mistrustful watchers.

“Jeongin?” Seungmin asked, grabbing a warm pastry from a greasy, pink box and tearing off a hunk of it with his teeth. “Um, good question. He’s upset, but I don’t know if he _hates_ you.”

So Jeongin definitely hated him. Felix crossed his hands on the table and rested his chin on them, staring wistfully at the coffee machine, waiting for it to fill up again.

Chan sidled up next to him. “Hey.”

What a headache. Felix closed his eyes in irritation and waited for the coffee to beep at him. Shouldn’t Chan have the good sense to hate him too? _Why_ was he so chipper in the morning?

“Good morning,” Chan said, leaning closer this time as if he thought Felix hadn’t heard him. “Polite people say it back, you know.”

“I am not polite,” Felix grumbled. He looked into his mug and sighed when he found that new coffee had not materialized in it.

“That much we figured out,” Chan said, though he still sounded oddly cheery when he said it. “What’re you in for?”

“I brought him to get more coffee,” Seungmin said, pride evident in his voice. “He was _sleeping_ when I went in.”

“Oh, is someone not a morning person?” Chan asked with glee.

“I hate it here,” Felix muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

Just then, thank _god,_ the coffee pot clicked, signifying that the coffee was ready. Felix’s head snapped up, and he almost got off of his stool before Seungmin went and got it for him.

“Here we are,” Seungmin sing-songed as he poured the coffee. “Bitter and scalding, much like someone I know.”

Felix decided he didn’t care about Seungmin mocking him as long as he got coffee out of it. Even if it _was_ bitter, and almost burned the roof of his mouth.

“How’s the coffee, mate?” Chan asked in English. He grinned at Felix’s sour look; this code change so early in the morning might be easy for _him,_ but Felix was struggling through two cups of coffee, and finding the right words to reply with was difficult.

“Bitter,” he replied, in English to Chan’s delight. “It’s fine.” A few of the others that lingered in the kitchen shot them confused looks, but Felix paid them no mind. When he looked over, Seungmin just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Not as good as what you’re used to, I’m sure.” Chan begged some more coffee from Seungmin as well, stopped him when it was halfway full, and went to fill the rest of his mug with milk. Felix wasn’t the only one to make a face.

“Uh…” Shit, he was distracted. “No difference. Only a step above instant.”

“Huh. Thought the Districts might give you all fancy coffee, like, made from one of only five trees left in the whole world, or something.”

“You overestimate us,” Felix told him. He took another sip of the coffee and couldn’t stop a scowl at the bitterness this time. “Chuck us the sugar, why don’t you.”

Chan went and fetched the sugar. “You know, we’re going to start reading _The Hobbit_ tonight. You should come and join us.”

“I’m reading,” Seungmin announced cheerily. Felix blinked at the fact that he understood English — there had been nothing about that in the file he had been given— but decided to ignore it and move on.

“What do you want from me?” Felix asked. He sipped from his mug and looked up at Chan, who stirred his own.

“What do you mean?” Chan asked. He leaned up against the counter and met Felix’s gaze on his own level. “You’d love _The Hobbit._ It’s tradition to read a story every Friday night; it’s better than _Where Are They Now._ I think you’d really benefit from joining us.”

“Why am I _here,”_ Felix stressed. “Why do you keep me here, with all this freedom. Why haven’t you killed me. I could go on. The last time I tried to ask, you were quite drunk off of _my_ alcohol, and you’ve said nothing about it since.”

Chan’s face twisted into a strained smile. “You want to take this somewhere else?”

“Are we going to fight? No? Then let’s stay right here,” Felix said. His attention snapped back to the room as a whole — everyone else was watching them with wide eyes and pale faces, their breakfasts and coffees forgotten. Seungmin still lingered at the counter opposite him, but stared at him with something that could have been anticipation or worry. It felt strangely tense, but that was to be expected; Felix had been trying for something pleasantly cheerful, but he had always been a poor actor.

“Yongbok,” Chan began, for which Felix sucked on his teeth in disapproval. It wasn’t that he expected people to start using his name straight away, and he wasn’t about to correct them, but forgetting didn’t earn these people any favors.

“Do you remember what I told you? You better kill me or let me go, because I am not going to join your fucking team. We both know it’s not really about that, but you haven’t told me what it’s really about.”

He could see the red rising in Chan’s face, and braced himself to have to fight; his hand tightened around his half-full mug, and he thought he would probably be able to throw it in Chan’s face at least.

“I would be pleased to see you tonight in the library,” Chan said. His voice was as tight as Felix’s grip, but that seemed to be the extent of his anger. But he must have been done with the whole conversation, and so turned to leave, leaving Felix with his frustration.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Felix said. He turned in his stool to watch Chan’s retreating back; when it became obvious that Chan wouldn’t turn around, he slid off and began to follow him. “What the hell do you want me for?”

“Hey,” someone said, and it took Felix a moment to translate the Korean into something he could understand. He flicked his gaze over for a moment to see the shocked and worried expression on Hyunjin’s face, the raised hand — as if that could stop him — before he focused on Chan once more.

Just in time, too. “I’m not going to answer your question,” Chan called over his shoulder. “Figure it out yourself. You’re smart.”

Felix had never been accused of such a thing before. He moved Hyunjin’s hand out of the way and took his own wrist out of Seungmin’s grasp; he hadn’t even noticed the touch until he had to get rid of it. The thought of _Again? Seriously?_ filtered through his head. The others began to slowly close ranks around him, featureless faces at the edges of his vision, but Felix only had eyes for Chan’s retreating back. He could make out an unfocused jaw, a furrowed brow here and there; nothing important. All he wanted was his answers.

“I’m _not_ smart,” he called back. “You — !”

Chan paused; perhaps he could hear the fury in Felix’s voice, or determination that felt more like sheer pig-headedness. But Felix could hardly keep his eyes on Chan. The others crowded around him, a hand on his chest, another on his upper arm, everything tight and tense.

“Me?” Chan asked. His voice should have been too quiet to hear, and his face too far to see, but Felix heard it, and saw the carefully neutral expression as well. He couldn’t help but be laser-focused on this — 

“Spineless, obfuscating nightmare of a revolutionary,” he spat under his breath. Too quiet and too far for Chan to hear, but Chan turned anyway as if he had.

They looked at each other through the bodies between them. Seungmin had taken hold of Felix’s hand and was tugging at it, almost dragging his body away from the throng; all of them thirsted for violence except for him and it was almost refreshing.

“Okay,” Chan said. “If you really want to know, Yongbok, you looked like you needed it.”

Felix was about to ask _What the hell does that mean,_ but Seungmin was already tugging on his arm harder than really necessary, so he figured he had overstayed his welcome. With his cup of coffee abandoned on the kitchen counter, he allowed himself to be spirited away to his room with only vague protests.

They closed the door behind him. Very suddenly, Felix found himself alone.

What the hell kind of answer was that? _He looked like he needed it._ Did he look like some pathetic beggar? What was the _it_ he so desperately needed? A story? Did he look like he needed a _story?_ He wasn’t a child; he had seen more, done more than any of them ever had, or even could. It was infuriating to be treated like a stupid, helpless infant; or like some mindless beast that they thought they could placate with a _song._

Wasn’t that their thing? Song, dance, stories? It was all so — _worthless._ What did they think a _story_ was going to do to him? Did they think it would put a pretty bandage on all his wounds?

Did they think it would make them all _friends?_

Felix grabbed the pillow from his bed and screamed into it. He clutched it tight to his face, fingers digging into the plushness of it; suddenly, stupidly, he realized he needed to cut his nails.

The thought gave him enough pause to laugh like an insane person and recollect his wits. He knelt on his bed, on top of his sheets, and looked at the pathetic little pillow he held in his pathetic little hands.

_You and them…_

The thought was distant, but he began to wonder about them, desperate to grab onto anything to keep his mind distracted. Stray Kids, District Nine; there were seven of them, and with Chan’s stupid plan to get him to be a part of their team, he would only make eight. Them and their canned-laughter sitcoms and their stories at the end of the hall.

What did his door look like to them? Could they feel him behind it, a silent threat in their home? He was a dark presence at the end of a long hallway; somehow, he came to realize that he hated the thought of it.

Felix dropped to the floor and began to do push-ups. He didn’t count, but let his mind empty of his frustrations, his unanswered questions, and of the fear he wouldn’t let himself acknowledge.

He’d never read a story before. Instruction manuals, sure; survival handbooks, old Boy Scout guides and the like, but nothing more. Countless official files on his targets and subordinates alike, profiles, interviews, but never an actual book. He had trouble imagining what it could be like.

They — the Districts — were trying to do away with the concept of lies. The idea that people could just… say things that _weren’t true_ struck something deep inside of Felix; his lip curled in disgust at the thought, and he pressed down, pushed up, until he could think about it without wanting to punch the wall.

How could someone make up a person that just… wasn’t real? How could they throw together all of the things that they thought made up a human, and think that they had made a creature with a soul? It wasn’t possible. There was no way to put a person between the pages of a book; no way at all.

What would it feel like, to have no face to tie to a name? No history to verify, no ties to this world at all…? Felix shuddered at the thought. From his standpoint as an agent, it sounded like a nightmare. There was nothing more difficult to track down than ghosts, and fiction was full of nothing but ghosts.

Maybe, once they had read him a story, he would find that all of the things the District had told him were right. There had always been a dark corner of suspicion in the back of his mind that he refused to acknowledge; if he never read a story on his own, how could he know that they were wrong? Maybe actually hearing the story would wipe his mind of any doubt. Of course the Districts were always right. He never should have had any doubt to begin with.

If the Districts were right, then he would go back. He would forget about stories and anything else they thought they could give him and dedicate the rest of his life to eradicating it all from the world. He would accept that all of it was wrong, and that these people were wrong to want it in the world. He would go back to what was right.

If they were wrong, though…

Felix shook himself. Push-ups were not doing it for him, so he flipped onto his back and began a set of reverse crunches. The Districts were not going to be wrong. He would just hear this story, and be done with it.

* * *

No one bothered him until that evening, when Jeongin came in with a small dinner and an even smaller “good evening.” They sat in silence together as Felix poked at his food; he hadn’t really realized that Jeongin never ate with him, but it made sense.

He wouldn’t lie and say that Jeongin hadn’t surprised him. If anything, Felix had expected Seungmin to come back; that it was Jeongin gave him (perhaps misguided) hope that things could be okay between them.

“Hey,” Felix said, at the same time Jeongin said all in a rush, “I’m sorry.”

They blinked at each other for a moment. “Go ahead,” Felix murmured to Jeongin, who immediately took the chance to unload everything that must have been on his mind.

“I’m sorry for pressuring you yesterday, you weren’t ready to talk to me and I shouldn’t have pressed, so I’m sorry… but you really scared me, you know. I really thought you were going to hurt me, especially when you said that I shouldn’t have forgotten who you are. You were right, and when I thought about all of the things that you’re here for, I got scared that you were going to snap and add my name to that list. And then Seungmin told us what you guys talked about and I feel bad for not giving you a chance to tell me something so important to you. I… I thought we were friends, too. I thought that that was what our relationship was headed towards, anyway. Not everyone wants to watch _Friends_ with me and it means a lot that you’ll sit with me, even if you’re not having fun… and I guess I’m sorry for that, too, and I’m sorry that I get bored and annoy you when we watch _Blue Planet.”_

“I would have been angry anyway.”

“What?”

Felix sighed deeply. “I overheard something I wasn’t meant to hear, and you just… happened to be around when I got mad about it. What I’m saying is that it isn’t your fault, Jeongin. You did your best, and you were nice to me when I didn’t deserve it. I’m the asshole here, which I’m sure comes as no surprise.”

They sat in silence for a little while longer. Felix picked some more at his food, and Jeongin watched him.

“Are you coming tonight?” he asked once Felix was finished. “Chan-hyung told us what you guys were talking about, and… it would be nice to see you there.”

_Nice._ Felix shouldn’t want to be nice. And he wasn’t; but right now, he wanted to show Jeongin that _he_ was sorry, though he’d never admit it aloud, and this felt like the right step in that direction.

Besides, he had made a promise to himself that he would hear this story. A stupid, misguided promise, but a promise still. Felix didn’t know many things, but he knew how to live with honor.

So he said, “I will,” and tolerated Jeongin’s excitement as much as he could. After a moment, he flicked his gaze to Jeongin’s smile. It was so… wide. Not the widest he had seen from him, but he was still obviously happy. Felix wondered, not for the first time, what such a bright young man was doing here, of all places.

“Hey,” he told Jeongin. “Will you answer a question?”

“Hm? Um, sure,” Jeongin said. He scooted a little closer to Felix; they had both been sitting on the bed, as there was no desk or table in the room. “What is it?”

“What do you think of… all this?”

Jeongin looked at him with polite confusion. “How do you mean?”

“I mean, the… stories and things. Are they really this important to you?”

“They absolutely are,” Jeongin said, without hesitation. “What do I think of… I guess I think about how art is important, how self-expression is a human right, and then I think about how I’m making a difference here. I think about how the Districts are just _wrong_ to do what they’re doing.”

“How did you start?”

Surprisingly, Jeongin laughed. “Oh, I’m not stupid enough to tell you how we recruit people. Nice try, though.”

Felix was taken aback, and maybe a little offended, though he didn’t know why. On Jeongin’s behalf, maybe; he didn’t really think the other was that stupid at all. “No, that’s not what I meant — _why_ did you start? You, personally.”

That at least gave Jeongin a little pause. “Ah, me…? My story isn’t really exciting, you know. I just figured it was the right thing to do, and when I had the opportunity to join District Nine, I did. Besides, I was getting a little bored with nothing exciting to look at.” He laughed at himself, but it withered away when Felix didn’t join in. “What about you? Why’d you sign up for the Districts?”

Felix didn’t speak for a long time. The answer ran circles in his mind; it was short and to the point, but it took up a lot of room regardless.

Finally, he said, “I didn’t really have a choice. I was… selected for a program when I was very young.”

“Oh,” Jeongin breathed. “Huh.”

“Let’s just go,” Felix said. He stood abruptly and let his past fall from him; he could almost see it sitting next to Jeongin, identical expressions of loss and pity on their faces. “Don’t want to be late for your story.”

Jeongin sprang up from the bed with a loud expression of their lateness and his forgetfulness, and all but dragged Felix from the room in his hurry. There was no time for Felix to be nervous when he was being pulled along like this, but it all came crashing into him as if he had hit a brick wall once he stood at the entryway to the library.

Everyone was already there.

Everyone was already there, and they all instantly looked at him as he froze in the doorway yet again. They were all covered in bandages, hiding everything from the bruises and scratches on Jeongin’s face to the stab wound in Changbin’s shoulder. Jisung was the most pitiful to look at, having to wear a loose, light shirt to let bandages wrap tightly around his middle, where he had been shot. His eyes were sharp, but they were sunken into a pale, gray face. 

Felix was no stranger to being watched, but this felt… hostile. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Glad you could make it,” Chan said at the exact same time Jisung said, “Oh, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me.”

The room erupted into noise at that — everything from Minho’s belabored sigh to Hyunjin airing his grievances loudly and with passion — and Felix shrank from them, would have left the room entirely if not for Jeongin’s grip on his arm.

“Did you seriously invite him?” Jisung said, half-swallowed by everyone else sniping at each other. “To our _story hour?_ You’re lucky I want to hear this thing, I might have slaughtered you otherwise — ”

_“You knew_ this was going to happen, not only did I tell you but it’s been our plan from the start — ”

“I didn’t think you’d _actually_ — ”

“Not like you could even touch me right now, anyway,” Chan muttered under his breath, to which Jisung responded with an offended, wordless shriek.

“You know, I didn’t mention this earlier,” Changbin said, sliding right into Chan and Jisung’s argument, “but it _was_ kind of unfair that you wouldn’t let us try to kill him when he was definitely trying to get us.”

“And _I’ve_ said it before, it’s not his fault,” Chan snipped back, readily ignoring Jisung’s high-pitched rant. “It’s like. Programming.”

“Oh, that smells like bullshit,” Jisung said, though he still sounded a little like a whistle.

“He stabbed me, though. Chan. Chan, he _stabbed_ me.” Changbin leaned forward with each sentence, trying to look deep into Chan’s eyes, but Chan tilted away and put his hand on his face.

“He almost crippled me,” Hyunjin piped up.

“Like, this is my dice-rolling shoulder.”

“When he stabbed my leg? That whole muscle,” Hyunjin continued. No one paid him much mind.

“That’s also your dominant hand for wielding weapons,” Minho called from his place in the corner. “But that’s not as important as Dungeons and Dragons, I suppose.”

“Okay, not to upstage Binnie or anything, but he _did_ actually shoot _me,”_ Jisung declared.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to mention it?” Chan muttered.

“He also choked Minsoo out,” Hyunjin said. He got up from the two-person loveseat, pulling a small, yellow book out from the shelves with a pleasant expression on his face, and passed it to Seungmin as the others sniped at each other.

Next to Felix, Jeongin looked onto the conversation with growing horror. “You — did he really do all that?” he asked Chan.

“Aren’t you on my side?” Chan said, exasperated. Jeongin frowned and shrugged, and when he looked to Felix, their carefully neutral gazes met.

“Let the man speak!” Minho declared, pointing at Chan with determination.

“Look — _listen,_ it’s not a bloody competition.” Chan all but whined the words.

“Bang Chan, master of rhyme,” someone muttered. No one owned up to it when Chan cast a wicked look around the room, and finally they all settled down.

“We’ve already talked about this,” Chan told the room. “I mean, I can go through my points again, if you really want me to.”

_“Please_ spare us,” Jisung said.

“That’s what I thought. So can we just agree, _again_ because we already _did,_ to let this guy sit with us for this one night and listen to the story? Like, look at it this way — ”

_“You said_ — ! If I have to listen to you talk about your _vibes_ one more time I’m going to fucking lose it.”

“Come over here,” Jeongin whispered in Felix’s ear. He jumped slightly; he thought the other might abandon him, with all of his terrible actions put under the microscope. But he decided he could believe that the other didn’t care, just for this one evening, as Jeongin led him to a sofa in the back of the library, where they curled up under a soft blanket. Chan and Jisung continued to argue, and Felix sat on the sofa ramrod straight, just waiting for it to be over.

“Chan-hyung, Jisung,” Seungmin said. His voice was quiet, but the others immediately fell silent. It was strange to see the others settle down at the word of one of their youngest, but they all watched Seungmin flip through the pages of the book with a quiet respect. “Let’s settle down so I can read.”

“Fine,” Jisung muttered. He stormed off — as much as he could storm off, which was more of a weak totter — to the other side of the room from where Felix sat, and the others talked among themselves as they tried to find their places.

Seungmin sat in a comfortable looking chair rather close to Felix’s sofa. Chan sat on the floor between them, and they talked quietly as the others argued over their places. Not that Felix should have expected Seungmin to pay attention to him; when faced with the option of any of his friends, of course he would choose them over himself.

“Hyung, shall we start at the beginning?” Seungmin asked, his voice quiet, still.

“No other place to start,” Chan replied.

“We’ll only go through the first chapter,” Seungmin said to Felix, showing him where in the book he would finish with as easy smile. “I couldn’t possibly read all of this today. It would take hours; and besides, I think you’ll enjoy the story more if there’s some suspense.”

There was nothing Felix could say to that assessment. He could only take Seungmin’s word for it, though he was vaguely disappointed at not hearing the entire story at once. Would he have to stay until it was completed to cast judgement, or would he be able to tell at once?

“Very well,” Seungmin said, addressing everyone in the library. They settled in their spots and quieted, staring up at him with attentive awe. “It’s time to begin,” he announced, and opened the book to the first page.

Felix wasn’t sure if he liked the power this book commanded already. It seemed as if everyone had already forgotten him, or at least realized they could tolerate him if only they had this story to listen to.

“Once,” Seungmin said, his already light voice now nothing but a whisper. Everyone else listened with intent, reminding Felix of his own control over his old squad. The memory flitted through his mind only briefly as he focused on Seungmin’s voice. “Once,” Seungmin repeated, his eyes locked on Felix. Before continuing, he took a steadying breath, and for the third time said, “Once, in a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.”

After that there was no hope for him.

Felix listened, entranced, as the story unfolded itself around him. The image of the Shire built itself around him, teasing the corners of his vision; the smoke from Bilbo Baggin’s pipe filled the room as he talked with Gandalf, and the talk of adventure was enough to send a thrill down his spine and fill him from the bottom up.

_Go,_ Felix thought, almost whispered; he wanted it, he _wanted_ the hobbit to go into that strange world so much that he almost fell apart when he refused.

Then the dwarves came, and Felix thought he almost smiled when they ate, and ate some more, and danced around the hobbit-hole teasing Bilbo, a riot of colorful beards and hats hanging at the door. He felt the excitement fade and the tone of the story turn somber and mournful, and as Seungmin recited, “The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still the dwarves played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes…” Felix realized that the others in the room sat up a bit straighter, and glanced at each other as if preparing for something.

Then, as the dwarves of the story did, they began to sing.

_“Far over the misty mountains cold,”_ Seungmin said softly, the words half spoken and half song. _“To dungeons deep, and caverns old… We must away, ‘ere break of day, to seek the pale enchanted gold.”_

Beside Felix, Jeongin quietly began to hum the same melody Seungmin sang. He wasn’t the only one; Chan somewhere to his right and Hyunjin somewhere to his left hummed along in some thrilling harmony, high and low.

_“The dwarves of yore made mighty spells… While hammers fell like ringing bells…”_

On the second verse, Minho began to sing along with the others, pitching his voice higher than them but matching his volume so, so carefully. _“In places deep, where dark things sleep, in hollow halls beneath the fells.”_ Here, too, Jisung and Changbin joined in the humming, the room ringing with the deep music, Felix feeling something rise in him at the sensation.

_“On silver necklaces they strung… the flowering stars, on crowns they hung…The dragon-fire, in twisted wire they meshed the light of moon and sun.”_

At once, all of them joined Seungmin, their song rich and full and strange to him. _“Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old… We must away ‘ere break of day, to claim our long-forgotten gold._

_“The pines were roaring on the height…! The winds were moaning in the night… The fire was red, it flaming spread… The trees like torches blazed with light._

_“The bells were ringing in the dale… And men looked up with faces pale… The dragon’s ire, more fierce than fire, laid low their towers and houses frail.”_

More than one of them looked at him as they sang. Felix didn’t even have to ask himself; he knew they looked at him as they looked at their dragon, with a destructive kind of anger. It was no use telling them he wasn’t angry like that, but he drew into himself regardless.

_“Far over,”_ Seungmin sang, and Felix suddenly realized that it was just him. The others had gone silent once more, and Seungmin’s was the only voice that filled the room, quiet and sweet. _“… the misty mountains grim… To dungeons deep, and caverns dim… We must away, ‘ere break of day, to win our harps and gold from him!”_

They must have finished the song. Felix realized he had forgotten how to breathe. Together, the eight of them sat in silence; it could have been a second, or a year, and Felix would not have known the difference. In whatever length of time they sat together, Felix could not remember any differences that separated these people from himself.

Then Seungmin cleared his throat and began to read once more. For a dizzying moment, Felix thought Seungmin had reached into his head and said exactly what he felt. It took him a worryingly long time to realize that it was the words of the book.

“As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.” Seungmin looked up then, directly at Felix as the rest of the others settled back into their spots; he must have seen something there, because he faltered for a moment before finding his spot once more. “He shuddered; and very quickly he was plain Mr Baggins of Bag-End, Under-Hill, again.”

Felix could do little more than listen after that. The call to begin their journey, Gandalf admitting to choosing Bilbo as the lucky fourteenth member of the party; a mysterious old map, a shaky and perilous plan; and, above all else, the dragon. The dragon that wanted for gold, and for riches, but wanted nothing from either except for to _hoard;_ Felix sucked in a breath at the mention of the serpent, and shivered at the name _Smaug._

He could see the fire pouring down on the forests, and the cities, and the mountains of Middle-Earth, could feel the heat of it and hear the screams of dwarfs, and felt his heart tremble with the fear they felt. The sorrow, as well, of those that survived; the weeping and the cursing, and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like, to _feel_ that intensely.

“‘… we have never forgotten our stolen treasure,’” Seungmin read in Thorin’s voice. “‘And even now, when I will allow we have a good bit laid by and are not so badly off’ — here Thorin stroked the gold chain round his neck — ‘we still mean to get it back, and to bring our curses home to Smaug — if we can.’”

Yes. Felix knew what revenge meant.

Seungmin finished soon after. “Bilbo went to sleep with that song in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams. It was long after the break of day when he woke up.”

With that, he slid a small piece of paper between the pages and softly closed the book. Whatever had made the others pay such close attention fell away, and they stretched and rose to their feet, grinning at each other and congratulating Seungmin.

But he could not do the same. Something kept him glued to his seat. Felix could feel the thrum of the story flowing through him, again and again the words echoing. It was the first time he had been introduced to the concept of _magic,_ but he was unsure if it was the magic in the story, or the magic of the storytelling, of the song. The others were chatting quietly around him, but Felix’s face could not leave Seungmin’s as he laughed at something Changbin said.

“We,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. “We were supposed to give that up?”

The seven of them turned to stare at him.

“That,” Felix whispered, finally turning his gaze away from Seungmin’s face to look at the ground under him. “That was the first story I’ve heard.”

_“Ever?”_ Jisung asked, incredulousness woven into his voice. Even as the others elbowed him into silence, Felix silently and shamefully nodded.

“Yes, ever,” he confirmed. “I don’t — I don’t think my parents read to me. If they did I don’t remember.”

“Oh,” Chan breathed.

The first hint was the burning in his nose; Felix brought a hand up and hid his face behind it to swipe at his eyes.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rising to his feet. “I — ”

There was nothing else he could really say. Totally aware of the faces watching him, he fled the suffocating living room.

No one followed him as he rushed through the halls, or as he threw open his door and slammed it shut behind him. _Fuck._ Was he still crying? A quick swipe under his eye confirmed it, and he scrubbed at his face, trying desperately to erase any sign of it.

How long had it been since he’d _cried._ What use had tears in this life he led?

Felix heard the tell-tale step of someone approaching the room, and quickly pushed one of the bedside tables against the door. It was light, all things considered, and it wouldn’t take whoever was outside very long to break through, but it was better than nothing. He rushed to the bathroom, where he could at least lock that door behind him, and stepped back, sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at nothing.

The sound of his name trickled through to him. _Yongbok, Yongbok,_ called by more people than he had first thought. He half-expected them to break down the door when it became obvious that he wouldn’t open it to them. Would he be able to stop them? How could he?

What would they do to him? He knew exactly what he’d do to an uncooperative prisoner, and he _could not_ forget that he was a prisoner here, regardless of their stories and their songs. A little desperately, he searched for anything that could be a weapon — something pointy, stick-like — his toothbrush? The plastic hair comb? Or — his deodorant, the type that sprayed, he could spray it into their eyes and mouths perhaps —

But it was too late to search for it. People were knocking on the door, pounding on it, and Felix reached behind him in a desperate scrabble to find his toothbrush on the counter. He held it out in front of him and waited for the door to be knocked down, for them to swarm him, for… for…

“Yongbok?” Chan called through the door. “You in there, mate?”

The words were in English and that cut through some of the fog in his mind. He responded in kind with a heart-felt, “Fuck off.”

“Not going to do that,” Chan said. “You seriously — never?”

“Come on,” Felix snapped. “Don’t act surprised; you know exactly who I am.”

“It’s still surprising. I — ”

Felix could not care less what Chan had to say. “Fuck off, Christopher. I swear if you don’t, I _will_ — ”

“Rip me limb from limb, I’m sure.” Chan didn’t seem to care very much. “Just — just hear me out, would you?”

“Why? Are you going to ask me to be a part of your team again? You already know the answer to that.”

“Better kill you or let you go, blah blah, get used to us doing neither,” Chan shot back. “You’re not that intimidating, kid.”

“Oh, fuck _all_ the way off, I’ve killed more people than you could possibly imagine — ”

_“Anyway,_ Bokkie, what did you think of the story?” Chan asked in an extremely forced conversational tone.

“I will murder you.”

“Gotta come out of the bathroom first.”

That gave Felix pause. In the time he took to think, he realized that he wasn’t anxious like before. The adrenalin was still there, but it had converted to rage rather than stress.

He kicked the bottom of the door, hard enough that it would probably spook Chan but not enough to damage it. “Don’t think I can’t kill you through a locked door.”

“Seriously, did you like the book?”

“I did not. I hated it very much.”

“I smell a cheeky little liar,” Chan said. Felix wanted to bite Chan’s whole stupid face off of his stupid thick head.

“The Districts were right. That thing is a menace.”

“Oh, you flatter us. It’s a classic, you know.”

“Are all… _classics_ like that?”

“Hm? Like what, Bokkie?”

Felix paused again, and thought about what he wanted to say. He put the toothbrush on the counter again, but kept his hand close to it.

“Are you going to come in?” he asked, so quiet that he wasn’t sure if Chan could hear.

“I’m not.” Chan’s voice was far too gentle and kind for this. “Not unless you want me to.”

“I do not. In fact you can leave.”

“But we’re having such a nice conversation.”

_“Fuck_ off — ”

“Tell me,” Chan said in a sing-song voice. “Bokkie, my sweet, frustrating little assassin dickhead, _please_ oh please tell me what you thought of _The Hobbit.”_

The truth was that Felix didn’t _know._ How could he describe…? He felt transported. The words had drilled a hole in his chest and made their den right next to his heart.

“It confused me,” he confessed. The bathroom was small, and there was no room to pace, but he walked the two steps he could in front of the door over and over again, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “How are you supposed to feel after reading a story?”

“There’s no one right way to feel. That’s part of what I like about it.”

“How did _you_ feel?”

“Well, I’ve read _The Hobbit_ a lot, Bokkie. Hearing it felt… familiar, comfortable… like greeting an old friend. It’s interesting knowing how this story ends, how the characters will change over the course of it… I feel like I know Bilbo, and Gandalf, and Thorin and the rest of them. I’m excited to go on this journey with them again.”

Felix didn’t really know what to make of that. He leaned against the door, then slid down it to sit on the floor. Tiredness made itself known, pulling his eyelids down and bringing a slump to his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Felix said softly. “It was… a lot. I don’t know what to think of it yet. But I will,” he continued, cutting off whatever Chan was about to say. “And I want to come to my own conclusion. Don’t push your opinions on me or anything.”

“Alright, I won’t,” Chan said. “I really do want to know what you thought of the story, though. Not just the concept of stories in general. Like, was it exciting? Are you interesting in hearing more? What did you think of Bilbo?”

“It was fine,” Felix grumbled. “It wasn’t like reading a case file or anything, it was like… he was sharing his thoughts, but…”

“But?”

“But he’s _not real,”_ Felix stressed. “You get that, right? He’s not real, and he never will be. I need to remember that.”

“How do you mean?”

“B — the hobbit,” Felix said. “He’s not real. None of it is _real._ How can you sit there and listen to things that never happened? It’s a waste of time and more than that it’s an offense. O-offensive. To real people.”

“But he _is_ real,” Chan said through the door, his voice soft and understanding. “He’s right there, Bilbo Baggins, burglar extraordinaire.”

“He’s _not.”_

“He is, in the ways that count.”

“Books are full of ghosts,” Felix whispered, more to himself than to Chan. “He’s never struggled the way real people have struggled. None of his emotions are real; they’re just the product of some crazy person throwing _words_ onto a piece of paper — ”

“Tolkien was very smart, actually,” Chan said with some humour. “But. Listen. You’re right, Bilbo isn’t a real, physical being in this world, but… his struggles echo the struggles of people that do live in this reality. His actions affect other people the way our actions do. His emotions are like our emotions, and it means something to have those feelings spoken out there in the world; to know that, if Bilbo Baggins feels this way, maybe other people in this world do too. And if _they_ do, then maybe I’m not so alone.”

“That’s really complicated and stupid.”

“Well, I am giving my whole life to fight for the right for everyone to experience that feeling,” Chan said. “It’s a little stupid, but worth it, I think.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, each thinking their thoughts; Felix couldn’t let himself think about _not being so alone._

_Walk alone, lonely reaper,_ he thought to himself. _You know your purpose; it is safer than the alternative, and you know it. You are not smart but you know this one thing, reaper._

“Hey, Felix?” Chan asked. “Will you let me in now?”

_But I hunger._

Felix unlocked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 
> 
> (edit: i've replaced a previous with seungmin in this big scene; i hope the integrity of the message i'm trying to convey with this story and the relationships i'm trying to build between characters still comes through with this edit... and if it seems a little clunky and odd for new readers, that's why.)


	6. Any Way The Wind Blows Doesn’t Really Matter To Me, To Me

_“I fear to call. What should they hear me, and offer me their grain,_

_oats, or wheat or corn? I have been in the fields all day. I fear_

_I could not taste it. I fear knowledge of my hunger.”_

After that, Felix did what Chan called _come out of his shell a little bit._ He still didn’t trust them, and for the most part they didn’t trust him either; but they let him drink coffee with them in the mornings, and join them in the library during the day. Every so often one or a few or a lot of them would leave and grunt something like “training” to the others. Whenever he asked about it, they gave him a vague explanation that didn’t actually say anything and told him not to ask again.

He mostly stayed away from the books in the library. Seungmin caught him looking at the… comic books, he was pretty sure they were called, and dragged him into more than one lecture about their history, “without the District bullshit.” The bright colors and fake-looking people deterred him; they reminded him of _The Powerpuff Girls_ and his argument with Jeongin. Seungmin loved them, though, apparently. He could be found most days with his nose buried in a vintage _Batman_ comic, if he wasn’t hanging out with Jeongin watching old sitcoms.

Felix should have been surprised that their days were apparently spent lounging around their house, but finding out that they were only a small unit of a larger whole allayed his doubts. They hadn’t told him how District 9 worked, and he didn’t expect them to, but these Stray Kids most likely were assigned missions through Chan and sent to carry them out when needed. That was how Felix would do it, at least.

Their mission right now was probably to babysit him. No small amount of boredom had settled among them because of it.

While in the library, Felix liked to sit at one of the comfortable chairs that were artfully scattered around the room and watch the others talk, watch TV, or try very hard to read a book. His chair was in the corner next to the window, half-hidden by a bookshelf, and as such he was of half a mind that most of the others had forgotten he was even there.

He was watching Seungmin sink lower and lower in his seat, making a valiant effort to read _The New Teen Titans_ as Jeongin and Changbin laughed loudly above him, when Chan joined them, obviously tired. Felix wondered if he had been planning anything with District 9, and if so, what it could possibly be. Either way, he rallied spectacularly, grinning widely as the others noticed him and called out their greetings.

"Alright alright, who's in charge of dinner tonight?" Chan announced, his Australian accent thick in the English words. The rest of the team, forever enemies of responsibility, fell silent and sank into their seats, busying themselves in hopes of not catching Chan's eye. He rubbed his hands together, Felix watching with something vaguely similar to amusement, and cast a predatory gaze over the shrinking boys.

_“I_ think,” Jeongin piped up, from where he had half-hidden behind Seungmin, “that it’s Changbin’s turn tonight.”

Any protests on Changbin’s part were quickly drowned out by the rest of the boys enthusiastically agreeing. Felix watched with an amused eye as Minho nodded up to Chan with wide eyes, then froze and scrunched up his face. “Wait,” he said, projecting his voice over the noise. “He’s just going to make sausages.”

“Wh — do you not like my sausages?” Changbin said, his affront obvious in the sudden contemplative silence. “That’s rude. I make really good sausages.”

“They’re pre-packaged, all you have to do is put them on the grill,” Seungmin told his comic book, effectively ignored as the conversation moved on.

“We’re not, like, _German_ though,” Hyunjin said. “We need something other than just grilled sausages. Like, I don’t know, _vegetables_ would be good.”

“I can throw a bell pepper on the grill,” Changbin suggested.

Everyone made a face. _“One_ bell pepper for _eight_ people?” Hyunjin cried. “Who raised you?”

“I can also do a bok choy? Multiple bell peppers? What do you want from me?”

“Ok, so what if we make him make something else,” Jisung suggested. Everyone looked at him with vaguely incredulous expressions, and he put up a finger and popped his eyes at them. “It’s not like sausages is the only thing he makes!”

“I can make lasagna,” Changbin pointed out. “Have you had my lasagna?” After they all muttered their denial, Changbin slapped the arm of the sofa he sat in and said, “What! It’s settled. I’m making you all lasagna.”

“But vegetables,” Hyunjin protested.

“If you want them so badly you can fry up some bell peppers or whatever,” Changbin told him, already rising from his seat. “The lasagna is going to have to bake for a while so you’ll have time.”

“What is _with_ you and bell peppers,” Hyunjin muttered. “I can boil some green beans.”

“Disgusting,” Minho said, slapping his arm where he sat next to him. “You’ll make them all soft and mushy and think a sprinkle of salt is enough flavor. Make a stirfry. What vegetables do we have?”

“I’ll figure it out later when I actually have to do it,” Hyunjin grumbled, flopping back onto the couch and weakly smacking Minho’s reaching hands away. “You’re so annoying.”

_“You’re_ annoying.”

The slap fight continued for a half-hearted few seconds before Hyunjin got up with a huff and deposited himself between Jeongin and the side of the loveseat, his knees folded halfway up to his chest. With a giggle, Jeongin poked Hyunjin in the side, and continued to bother him as he pressed him further into the side of the sofa. No one paid much attention to them anyway, and Seungmin seemed unbothered as he flipped through his comic book.

A soft sound of clanging came from the kitchen, and Felix’s head whipped towards the noise before he figured it was probably pots or pans or things like that. He’d never had reason to spend any time in a kitchen while things were being cooked, so he had no context of what went on.

They could all hear the deliberate, disgruntled noise once the clattering had ceased. A minute later, another loud, grumbly sort of noise came, and Chan called over from where he had sat before Seungmin on the floor, flicking through an old copy of _Dune,_ “What do you need, Binnie?”

“Someone come mince the garlic for me,” came the response. “Jisung!”

Jisung groaned, but rose to his feet anyway as Chan and Seungmin slapped at his legs. “Coming.”

Felix rose to his feet as well, aware of the quick glances shot his way. “I’m going with you.”

This seemed to suck the air out of the room, but Felix was no stranger to that. Jisung met his eyes with a challenging stare, silently daring him to sit back down. It was no secret how much Jisung honestly hated him; how stupid he thought it was to have the Districts’ ace assassin roam free in their home base. How obvious it was to him that Felix would creep into their rooms late one night and finally finish the mission he was assigned. That was all he was. The Districts' hunting hound, unchanging and immutable.

Chan opened his mouth to speak, to try to restore some of the earlier ambivalence to the two of them, but Felix beat him to the punch. “I’ve never seen someone cook before.”

That seemed to stun Jisung, but Felix knew he was weak to it even if he never really believed him. Either way, Jisung sucked on his teeth, finally breaking their staring contest to blink in the direction of the kitchen.

“Fine,” he finally grunted, and turned quickly out the living room. Felix trotted after him, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and forcing a silly grin off his face. He was kind of excited for this. Food was a good thing, something he appreciated; he wondered what it would be like to watch someone make it.

In the kitchen, Changbin had spread the entire contents of the refrigerator onto the counter. He looked up from his contemplation as Jisung angsted his way into the room, his mean little smile dropping once he saw Felix.

“What’s he doing here,” he whispered, putting his hand on Jisung’s chest before he could fully enter the safe zone of the kitchen.

Jisung sighed with aggravation. “Wanted to watch.”

Both of them sent Felix independent but equally suspicious squints. Felix pretended not to notice, and sat at the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining table on a tall stool, twisting slightly with the small red top.

Changbin shoved a clove of garlic into Jisung’s stomach, making him stumble with the force of it, without breaking eye contact with Felix. “Alright, this is your problem.”

“I couldn’t _not_ let him follow me,” Jisung grumbled. “Chan was _right there._ ”

“I was talking about the _garlic,_ shit head."

“Oh,” Jisung said wisely. He set it down on the kitchen side of the counter where Felix sat and tsked at the array of groceries on display. “Hey! Are those _sausages?”_

“I put ‘em in the lasagna.”

“You said you would make lasagna _instead_ of sausages!”

“No I didn’t! You all shot down the sausages even though we already had them in the fridge! They’ll go bad if we didn’t use them soon and they’re really good in lasagna anyway!”

Felix propped his elbows on the counter and watched the argument with interest.

“No, _you said_ you would make lasagna instead of sausages! You said, _Have you had my lasagna?_ And then we said no, and you said, _What! It’s settled. I’m making you all lasagna._ That’s what you said.” Jisung’s imitation of Changbin’s voice leaned all the way into the roughness of it, making it sound as if Changbin gargled rocks instead of the fine texture his voice actually had.

“I’m still making lasagna! The sausages just go in the lasagna!”

From the living room, a chorus of voices shouted, _“Shut up!”_ and Jeongin’s voice called, _“Just cook, for the love of God!”_

Suitably cowed, Jisung glared half-heartedly at Changbin before separating the ingredients in a way Felix didn’t understand. Garlic, a large red onion, and something that could have been a tub of soft cheese were all shoved to the side, while a box of noodles and a plastic package of ground meat were put next to the stove. Changbin disappeared under the counter and, after some rustling and clanging, reappeared with a large pot and a wide pan. Jisung opened a drawer and withdrew a chef’s knife, taking its sheath off with a soft noise. He reached down and pulled out a wooden board, letting it fall onto the counter with a clatter.

The two of them moved in the kitchen as if they had memorized the steps. Changbin filled the pot with water, and Jisung diced the onion with quick movements, peeling the skin and dead parts off and setting them to the side on the counter. Felix listened, entranced, to the soft, crunchy noise of the onion being chopped, the knife cutting through it quickly and effectively.

Seeing Jisung play with knives should have scared him; made him nervous at the very least. He was no stranger to Jisung’s skill with knives — the fresh scar on his face spoke enough about it. But this — maybe it was the different shape of the knife, or the fresh sting of the cut onion, or the soft scents that started to grow in the kitchen — this was an entirely different experience. A calm kitchen rather than a dark alleyway in the middle of the night, a knife with a blade that curved down instead of up. It could be something innocent, held like that.

And Jisung’s face, too, as Felix looked up at it. He was focused on the act of cutting the onion, staring down at it with a gentle expression on his face, no less intense than he had been that night but channelled differently. Something in Felix thought he knew what expression was on his face, but he knew as well that it had never been directed at him.

“Here,” Jisung called, pulling a bowl down from a cupboard and using the back of the knife to scrape the onion into it. He passed it to Changbin, who had put a large pan on the stove, and when the onion hit it, a loud hiss filled the room. Felix flinched for it, and sank lower into his seat, but the other two didn’t seem bothered. There was even a small smile on Changbin’s face from the noise, and he used a wooden tool with a long handle and flat edge to shuffle the onions around the pan.

“As perfect as ever,” he told Jisung, who turned back to his cutting board with a grin of triumph. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jisung said, taking up the garlic next. “Do you need a knife for the sausage casings?”

“Sure,” Changbin said, not bothering to turn around as he put a hand out expectantly. Jisung pulled open a drawer by his hip and withdrew a smaller, more dangerous-looking knife, one with a red handle and a smaller, serrated blade. He unsheathed it and pressed the handle of it into Changbin’s hand, quickly snapping his fingers from the blade as Changbin took it. “Thanks.”

Was that what trust was? Knowing you would be handed a knife by the handle instead of the blade? That was what was between Jisung and Changbin, Felix knew; trust, familiarity, some unnamed positive feeling unfamiliar to him.

Jisung took the butt of the onion from the cutting board and waved it in front of Felix’s face. “We’re making a special lasagna for you. It’s going to be just sausages, and this.”

“Don’t tease him,” Changbin called over, a light chastisement to his voice that made Jisung chuckle. He put the butt of the onion in the pile of onion skin next to his cutting board and pushed them a little closer to Felix.

Still laughing lightly to himself, he took a good amount of cloves from the head of garlic, setting it aside when he had taken what he wanted. He placed the flat edge of the knife against the biggest clove and pressed down on it with the heel of his palm. A sharp noise came from it, and Felix watched with wide eyes as the skin of the garlic cracked open, Jisung picking it off with nimble fingers; then with amusement as he tried to shuffle the skin off his hand onto the pile of discarded onion. With growing frustration, Jisung tsked and scraped his fingers on the side of his cutting board.

He cracked open the rest of the cloves of garlic, cutting off the ends and tips and letting the pile of discarded skin and bits grow in front of Felix. He had to shuffle his stool over to keep watching, but he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from the careful movements of the knife.

Jisung sliced the bigger cloves down into smaller pieces, then slid his fingers over the spine of the blade to rest somewhere near the curve towards the tip, pressing down and holding it in place as he began to quickly move the knife quickly up and down and slowly from side to side. Felix would have been content just hearing the noise it made, the firm yet soft crunch of the cloves and the thick, sharp thud of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board over and over, again and again, but he could _watch,_ could see the knife catch the light pouring in from the windows above the sink and the table, could watch the garlic become smaller and smaller, clinging to the blade of the knife.

When the buildup became too much, which happened a few times, Jisung would use his finger to swipe the garlic from the blade and scrape it back onto the cutting board. His fingers became wet from it, but he didn’t seem to mind, even as they stuck to the blade of the knife.

It was mesmerizing, watching that knife move. Felix rested his head on his arms and stared at the garlic become smaller and smaller, until it was unrecognizable as something that had once been several solid cloves; it had been taken apart with care and precision, Jisung seeking out larger pieces and carefully cutting them down to smaller parts of themselves until they were nothing but easily scattered flecks.

“The garlic’s ready whenever you are,” he told Changbin, wiping down his knife one last time. A small noise of acknowledgement came from him, and Felix flicked his attention to the pan on the stove, where Changbin had spilled his sausage and ground meat over the onion. The food softly sizzled in the pan, turning brown as Changbin shuffled them around with his tool, the pot next to him with those sheets of pasta softly bubbling. Felix breathed in deeply and let the smell of onion and spice fill him entirely.

“I’m ready,” Changbin said, stepping to the side and letting Jisung bring the cutting board over, where he used the back of the knife once more to slide the minced garlic into the pan. The smell of it rose in the room, and Felix breathed deeply, letting a small, content smile hide in the crook of his arm. “They’re so small.”

“Don’t be crude,” Jisung returned, though there was a knowing smile on his face.

“No! I just mean that you always cut it up so small,” Changbin protested. “It’s good.”

“That’s what it means to mince, Binnie,” Jisung said, leaning on the counter next to the stove. “Need anything else?”

“Cut the vegetables for Hyunjin?” Changbin suggested. “You know he won’t, and I’m not in the mood to eat a whole bell pepper, strangely enough.”

Jisung laughed at that, throwing his head back. Everything he did was exaggerated, and his laughs were no exception, as his Adam’s apple bobbed in the curve of his neck and his mouth lifted into an open smile. “Yah! Be nice to him.”

Felix jumped when Changbin kicked Jisung in the shins, but the tension fell from him when he saw Jisung keep his smile. “Hey! Don’t kick me.”

“If I have to be nice to Hyunjin’s laziness, then you…” A subtle but meaningful head tilt towards Felix had him sitting up and directing his gaze towards the counter. He was almost disappointed that he had been remembered. The two of them had been having a good time.

“Yeah, I’ll cut your dumb bell peppers,” Jisung said. He acted as if all the joy had been sucked from him, and Felix, oddly enough, thought he felt… bad about it. “Oi. Yongbokkie, put that in the trash for me.”

Felix blinked at being addressed, and in such a familiar way, but Jisung had already scooped up his cutting board and knife, leaving the skins of the onion and garlic on the counter between them.

Shit, should he ask where the trash can was?

It was probably under the sink, since he couldn’t find it out in the wild, as it were. The problem with that was that Jisung was currently standing at the sink, rinsing his knife and cutting board. Plus the flaky onion and garlic skins were kind of hard to just… hold. Any stray breeze could send them flying out of his scooped hands, as he very quickly found out.

“Uh,” he began. Both Jisung and Changbin readily ignored him, if they had heard him at all. “Where…?”

Jisung peeked over at him and immediately barked out a laugh. “S-sorry, you just — ”

“Please just tell me where the trash can is,” Felix said. He felt his face contort to express exactly how much he didn’t want to be there, standing at the kitchen counter, his shoulders rising higher and higher to make sure the skins weren’t going to go flying out of his hands.

“Oh my god, it’s under the sink,” Jisung told him, still trying to hold back his laughter. He shook off his cutting board and wiped down the knife and set them down on the counter, doing absolutely nothing to help Felix as he slowly walked to the sink, and slowly, carefully, placed the skins in the small, green trash can under the sink. “Grand. Thanks so much, Bokkie.”

Felix felt his lip curl a little bit, but he hid it by scrunching his face in a milder form of disgust rather than straight up disdain. “No problem.”

“Damn, should have told me so I could’ve made it a bigger one,” Jisung said. “You know how I love to inconvenience you.”

“Yah, Han-ah, you’re so annoying,” Changbin whined, startling the both of them. “Bok-ah, come look at this, give it a taste and tell me if it’s good.”

With one last narrowed look in Jisung’s direction, Felix floated over to Changbin’s side and took the offered spoon. It had a little piece of ground meat and some red sauce, and he gave it a little kitten-lick before eating the whole thing.

It tasted great, and he said as much. Changbin grinned at him and let him linger by his side as he stirred the food. Thankfully it smelled as good as it tasted, and Felix felt himself relax as he leaned against the kitchen counter and breathed in, soft and deep and even.

“You want to give it a try?” Changbin asked, his voice low. Jisung had finished chopping various vegetables and had moved on to grating mozzarella cheese, so they kept their conversation quiet to not disturb him.

“What?” Felix asked. The question had caught him off-guard, and it must have shown by the way Changbin smiled and laughed softly to himself. “You want me to — ? No, I have no experience, I couldn’t.”

“Come on, it’s not that hard to learn,” Changbin teased. “Besides, cooking is one of the only art forms we have left. And this lasagna is going to be a work of art, let me tell you _that.”_

“Isn’t it cooked already?”

“Ah, I’ll leave it on for a little while longer for the flavour to settle in.” Changbin twisted the knob and made the flame under the burner small. “Just until the pasta cooks, and Jisung is done with the cheese.”

“Almost,” Jisung told them from where he struggled with the mozzarella. “Fucking hate this — stupid — ”

“You’re doing great, Sungie,” Changbin said. “And the pasta won’t be done for another couple minutes, so you have time.”

Jisung grunted at them. Very graciously, they decided he was better off left alone, and turned back to the simmering sauce. Not without a small laugh from Changbin as their eyes met.

“Here,” Changbin said, handing Felix the wooden tool. He took it very gingerly, trying to hold it the way he had seen Changbin hold it; but using it was harder than it looked, and the food hissed at him whenever he moved it the wrong way.

“You’re a natural,” Changbin said.

“I don’t even know what this thing is called,” Felix told him, gesturing at nothing with the wooden tool.

“The — the spatula?” Changbin stuttered. “Bokkie, it’s called a _spatula.”_

“Come on, that doesn’t even sound right.”

“Well, not everything has to _sound right,_ that’s just its name — you know what, not important, you just have to accept the fact that it’s called a spatula. We’re not going to call it anything else.”

“Fine,” Felix said, though he kind of hated how the word _spatula_ sounded in his head. There had to be a better word for it somewhere… maybe he could look it up in other languages.

“Cheese is done,” Jisung announced with obvious triumph.

“You are truly a god among men,” Changbin told him.

“Please, you’ll give me a big head.”

“You already have one,” Changbin said. “Cheeks, eyes, _forehead_ — ”

_“Oh-kay,_ that’s great hyung, thanks for sharing,” Jisung said quickly, cutting Changbin off with a flushed face.   
  
“Love you.”

“Get your disgusting face out of my sight.”

“I feel the love. Han-ah, you love me… _so! Much!”_ Changbin whined wordlessly and pressed Jisung against the counter in a crushing hug that had Jisung yelping in anger or pain; Felix couldn’t tell which.

“No! You’re so _heavy,_ you pabbit, what do you even _eat — !”_ Jisung ended the sentence with a grunt as Changbin squeezed.

“What’s a pabbit?” Felix asked. The other two looked at him, then at each other, clearing their throats and reassuming an air of professionalism.

“Inside joke,” Jisung mumbled. “We can’t decide if Changbin looks more like a pig or a rabbit, and he _refuses_ to choose himself…”

“I look like both,” Changbin sniffed. “Don’t have to choose.”

“You _do.”_

“I do _not.”_

Felix thought about it for a moment, then decided that it was stupid and he wasn’t going to get involved. He stirred the sauce in silence for about a minute before the timer for the pasta rang, and Jisung and Changbin melted in relief.

Apparently, constructing a lasagna was a laborious process. There were _two_ different types of cheeses they needed to use. Felix was put in charge of placing the long strips of pasta; Jisung was the cheeses, which he took deadly seriously, and Changbin was in charge of the sauce. They all took great pains to smoosh as much into the dish as possible, Changbin literally pressing down on everything with his spatula, and no one said anything when Jisung sneaked a little of the mozzarella even though it happened a lot.

In the end it looked a little ugly.

Felix wasn’t going to say anything, though. Changbin was loudly and obnoxiously proud of his lasagna, and maybe it would look better when they finished cooking it. Maybe it would taste super fantastic and its appearance wouldn’t even matter. Either way, they put it in the oven to bake, and Changbin was left to wash the dishes with Felix’s help drying while Jisung sat at the kitchen counter and gloated at them.

“You did a good job,” Changbin told Felix as they worked; he was quiet as Jisung talked to himself about… well, Felix had lost that particular thread a while ago. “For this being your first time in a kitchen.”

“You’re just saying that because we didn’t kill each other,” Jisung called. “I saw you though, Yongbok. I know you were eyeing those knives.”

Felix gave him a look of disdainful confusion and ignored him. “Thanks,” he told Changbin. “I think I might stick with take-out and dosirak though.”

“Oh, you hurt my soul,” Changbin cried, putting a hand on his chest and throwing his head back with dramatic flair. He got some soap on his clothes but either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “My very _soul,_ Bokkie. Well, the lasagna has half an hour to bake, so — _Hyunjin-ah!_ Get your skinny ass over here and make vegetables!” he shouted.

They heard Hyunjin grumble something in the living room, then a loud smack, and Hyunjin’s affronted squawk. After a moment, he trudged into the kitchen, rubbing his thigh and acting as angsty as Jisung had.

“I’m here,” he grumbled.

“Who smacked you? I would like to give them a ruby red rose and a sweet kiss on the lips,” Jisung said.

Hyunjin made a face at him. “Minho.”

_“That’s hyung to you!”_ Minho called.

They all jumped at least a foot in the air; Hyunjin cleared the kitchen counter, then ducked into a small ball underneath it. “Fuck’s sake, how does he do that,” Changbin whispered.

“He has an eighth sense for sensing disrespect on his name,” Jisung said.

“Eighth? What are the sixth and seventh?” Felix asked.

Jisung looked at him askance, but said, “Well, the sixth is for catching falling hats, because his reflexes are honestly crazy fast. The seventh is for finding stray cats. I still don’t know how he does it. We cannot _house_ all of those things.” Felix hadn’t seen any cats around the house, so they probably gave them to shelters, or released them back onto the streets if he was still feeling a little ungenerous towards them.

As they talked and sat themselves down at the counter, Hyunjin had grabbed the pan they’d used and set it on the stovetop again. “Did you cut these already?”

“I sure did, baby. You are _so_ welcome.”

“The carrots are little uneven,” Hyunjin muttered. Jisung predictably, as Felix was coming to learn, gasped in offense.

They continued to bicker as Hyunjin cooked the vegetables. The pan hissed loudly at all of them, and Felix shrank a little in his seat, but everyone else acted like it was completely normal. He didn’t have a lot to contribute to the discussion Changbin, Jisung, and Hyunjin were throwing at each other, so he sat quietly and waited for the food to be done.

“Are you hungry?” Changbin asked him, to which he shrugged. “It’ll be done soon. Hyunjin-ah needs to _add_ _a little more salt to the vegetables_ — ”

“Shut _up,_ hyung — ”

“But other than that we should probably get everyone’s drinks,” Changbin continued, pretending he hadn’t heard Hyunjin’s interjection. “What do you want to drink?”

“Water…?”

“Can you get the glasses? They’re in that cabinet,” Changbin said, pointing to a seemingly random one sandwiched between the stove and the refrigerator. “Sungie, go ask what everyone wants.”

Jisung groaned but did what he was told, and the three of them set glasses of water for just about everyone (Jeongin and Hyunjin had wanted apple juice, and Minho had a glass of cranberry juice) at the dining table in the other room, along with plates. While they did so, both the vegetables and the lasagna finished cooking.

“Shit, this thing is hot,” Changbin muttered as he took the lasagna from the oven. “Well? What do we think?”

It looked prettier than it had going in, but Felix didn’t say anything other than a generic, vague compliment. Changbin grinned at them.

He and Hyunjin prepared to bring out their dishes. “Can you two be in charge of the utensils? We didn’t have time,” Changbin said.

“Of course,” Jisung said. He leaned against the counter and watched the other two leave.

Felix made to follow the two of them — he was kind of hungry, after all. But Jisung put a hand on his chest. “Hey, we’ll be out in a minute, Binnie.”

“Right,” Changbin called, too focused on not dropping his lasagna that he didn’t look back.

“What,” Felix began, but Jisung cut him off with a short _“hsst.”_

So they waited for Changbin to leave their range of hearing in silence. Jisung’s hand moved from Felix’s chest to grip his upper arm, and he pulled him deeper into the kitchen, in the corner next to the coffee maker where it would be hard to see from the archway.

“You little liar,” Jisung whispered into Felix’s ear. “You haven’t said an honest thing since you walked through our front door, have you?”

“Since you dragged me through it?” Felix whispered back. “Doesn’t matter, I suppose. What do you think I’ve lied about?”

He was a little taken aback, but it was second nature to switch to whatever gear this conversation was going to take place in. His emotions hadn’t caught up quite yet, but he could feel the offense rise up within him. Maybe it was a little stupid to go along with whatever Jisung wanted to talk about. Maybe he should shake off this grasp and join everyone else in the dining room; it would be safer there, a little bit easier. But he wanted to stay here. If he stayed here, maybe he could get Jisung to trust him a little bit more. For some reason he wanted Jisung to trust him. He didn’t think too hard about why.

“I don’t believe you’ve never read a story,” Jisung said. “Or heard a song.”

“Why not?”

“That’s just.” Jisung floundered a little; dropping his grip on Felix to wave his hands about as if they would find the words floating about between them. “Impossible. Especially for someone our age.”

“I was… sheltered, growing up.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s _true,”_ Felix stressed. “How can I prove that I don’t know something? You just have to take my word for it.”

“I don’t take your word for jack shit,” Jisung hissed. “It’s literally less than useless to me. All you do is lie, and steal, and _kill_ — ”

Changbin called then, from the dining room. “Jisung! Where are you with the utensils?”

“Coming!” Jisung called back. “In a minute!” He fixed Felix with a glare. “This isn’t over.”

When he made to go, Felix’s heart gave a little stutter in his chest. He wanted to finish this conversation — Jisung had started it, and he was already walking away, with everything between them raw and open and unresolved. Without the chance to think about it, he reached out and grabbed Jisung’s wrist.

“Wait,” Felix whispered to Jisung’s offended expression. “We’re not done.”

_“Later.”_

“Why would I lie?” Felix hissed, holding tight as Jisung yanked on his arm. “Especially about this. Do have any idea how important this is to me? Do you even know what it means to me, to _lie?_ I haven’t lied once since I’ve been here. Sorry if that confuses you.”

“I’m not _confused,”_ Jisung said, turning to fully face Felix. “I’m _angry._ I’m fucking pissed that you just — walked into our lives from the other side of the battlefield. I’m fucking pissed that Chan let you into our home, our one safe place, like he’s thinking about bringing you into our _family._ You don’t belong here. All you and your people do is _lie.”_

“We don’t,” Felix said, but the words felt empty next to the raw emotion in Jisung’s voice. It felt like whatever grievance Jisung had with the Districts ran deeper than what Felix first imagined. _“I_ don’t. I haven’t lied to you, Jisung. I wouldn’t.”

“I hate you,” Jisung said softly. He put his fist on Felix’s chest in a mockery of a punch, and his head hung low, hiding his face from the light in the kitchen. “I hate you so much.”

“Okay.”

Changbin’s voice came again, this time tinged with worry. “You guys alright in there?”

Jisung lifted his head, tilted it back to blink at the lights in the ceiling. When he did, his eyes shone more than usual, and Felix said nothing as he called back, “Yeah, sorry, we’ll be right out!”

They shared a look, then. Felix didn’t know what was on his own face, but Jisung stared at him with a wary vulnerability, eyes still glittery before he rubbed them dry. Maybe a very temporary truce could be struck between the two of them.

So Felix stuck out a small olive branch. “Let’s get the fucking forks, then.”

Jisung huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah. Let’s get the fucking forks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~✨double update✨~
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this story, I'm so grateful for all of the love and support you've shown me 💚🌸🌿 I can't even describe what your comments and kudos mean to me. I said at the beginning of this story that I never really get a lot of attention whenever I posted my stories; I felt insecure and maybe a little reckless when I decided to share this story, and I didn't think anyone would read it at all... But over a thousand people have come to read this!! Oh my gosh. I still can't believe it. You've done more for me than I can say. 
> 
> So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for coming here and seeing what I have to give you. This double update is to celebrate you guys. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for reading.


	7. Mama, Just Killed A Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song one: [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4qfN5UeFvQ)/[spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/5gA9Xn8oPts2aewPgxVkPD)  
> song two: [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcEyUNeZqmY)/[spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1cgBWgoL6520lR2QZDzdGN)

_“My ears are caked with dust of oat-fields at harvest-time._

_I am a deaf man who strains to hear the calls of other harvesters whose_

_throats are also dry.”_

This was a mistake. They had given him fair warning last night, after the lasagna, that they had an event today and that they would be taking him with them. But he didn’t expect _this._ Whatever _this_ was.

Felix didn’t really want to get dragged along to whatever this was. But no one wanted to stay at their home base to watch over him, so he was handcuffed and blindfolded as they shoved him into a car and brought him… somewhere. The handcuffs stayed, but the blindfold was removed once the car rolled to a stop, and Felix could see a crowd of people pretending that they weren’t a crowd of people entering an old warehouse.

“Nice place, we know,” Jisung whispered conspiratorially at him. Felix would think he was trying to be friendly, but the tight grip on his upper arm as Jisung led him through the crowd would say otherwise. Figures.

“It _is_ a nice place,” Jeongin said from Felix’s other side. “It’s not often we get to listen to music that isn’t rapped by _you_ so any place that provides that is a nice place, as far as I'm concerned.”

“Hey, who let you have an opinion, brat?” Jisung said, though there was no bite to it. “Besides, you’re one to talk. How often have we heard you wailing out a song to your little heart’s content? Sounding like a strangled cat.”

“That’s mean,” Hyunjin said, from somewhere behind Felix. “He doesn’t sound like a dying cat. _You_ sound like an egg being deep fried.”

_“Gross,”_ Jisung groaned, throwing his whole body into the word. Felix tensed his bicep, as if he was about to make a break for it, and looked away as Jisung freaked out beside him.

He only tuned back in when Jisung cut off abruptly. For the entire time Felix had known him — admittedly not a very long time — he had never heard Jisung cut himself off like that. So short and sudden. A wet-sounding cackle came from before them, and Felix fixed his gaze on an older man, dressed in a leather jacket with a torn, bleach-stained ACDC shirt barely clinging to life under it. The tips of his hair were bleached an old, dead yellow, and though he had a regally shaped nose, it was out of place on the rest of his face.

Minsoo. Felix felt his hands tighten into fists.

“Well, I certainly haven’t seen you in a minute,” the man said, with a sharp jerk of his chin and an equally sharp smile. His eyes flicked over Felix, then at the rest of the group that had come to a halt around them, then at the handcuffs around Felix’s wrists. “Oh, what is _that?_ A scene? Didn’t know you would bring that out here.”

“Shut up,” Changbin growled. The man laughed.

“Little chihuahua, I’m not scared of you. The smallest dogs bark the loudest, you know.”

“Any dog can bite,” Changbin shot back. Felix heard the shifting of a leather jacket that meant he had crossed his arms over his chest, and from that, understood that the crowd had fallen quiet around them. He turned his head away from the man and cast his gaze around the large circle that had formed around them, faces pale and staring giving them a wide berth as they continued to funnel into the warehouse.

“I thought I said I never wanted to see you again,” Chan said with an uncharacteristic snarl.

“Is that what you said?” Minsoo asked, striding towards them. He was only stopped when Hyunjin and Minho stepped forward and put themselves between him and the others. To his credit, Minsoo managed to ignore them, and continued to address Chan. “How’s your little project going, hm? Has your idealism spit in your face yet?”

“I’m not one to gloat,” Chan said, his voice cold, “or to rub someone’s failures in their face, but… well, luckily your inability to kill him has led to us making great strides forward in our goals.”

“As if I care about your progress with that shit-eating sea sponge,” Minsoo said.

“You asked,” Changbin muttered. Minsoo snarled at him and made to lunge, but was forcibly shoved back by Minho and Hyunjin. Felix didn’t miss how the two of them had to strain to hold him back, or how easily Minsoo shrugged off their efforts.

“Alright, this has gotten out of hand,” Chan said. “We’re both here for the same reason. If you leave us alone, we’ll leave you alone. There’s no need for in-fighting.”

“Nah,” Minsoo said, his voice suddenly calm and serious. “No, I think there’s plenty of need for in-fighting.” His hand dropped to his side, his fingers flexing by his pocket, and Felix knew enough of the world to know that if there was something he could do, he should do it now.

“You didn’t manage to kill me,” he said, his voice deep and dark; he grabbed Minsoo’s attention right away, as well as the rest of the Stray Kids. Jisung and Jeongin both hissed in his ear for him to shut up, to not speak of things he hardly understood; but the others shushed them. Felix ignored them all. “Don’t think I’ll have the same problem when I come for you.”

Minsoo hesitated for a moment, glancing down at his cuffed fists with trepidation, and that was all the time needed for the doors of the warehouse to burst open, scattering the people crowded to the edges of the yard. A woman in a shaped, yellow dress stood in the doorframe, but that was all Felix could make out of her.

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice ringing through the yard. “If you won’t stop drawing attention to us, you’ll be banned forever.”

Minsoo’s eyes stayed on Felix for only a moment more before he slid a smile on his face and turned to face the woman. “Come on,” he drawled. “You wouldn’t do that.”

The woman put her hands on her hips and tilted her chin back. The motion sent an aura of power from her, and the man trembled before it. “You know the rules, Ah Minsoo. One strike and you’re out.”

From what Felix could see of the man with his back turned, he seemed as if he would be cowed, but pretend to accept his defeat gracefully. He slid a finger under his nose as if hiding a laugh, or thinking, and leaned slightly to the side before striding towards the warehouse with his arms extended. “You know I would never do anything that would drive me from this place, my dear Sunmi.”

The woman, Sunmi, merely sniffed and turned on her heel, walking back into the warehouse. The man, and the crowd left in the yard, followed her, trailing in her wake but unable to be anything as bright as she was.

Minsoo did look back once more, most likely at Felix, or just at the whole of them. Felix knew he couldn’t see him, but lifted the corners of his mouth the smallest amount into a snarl.

“Well,” Jisung said, breaking the quietness they found themselves in. “That was unpleasant.”

“No kidding,” Minho grumbled. “Let’s just forget it ever happened and get inside. I don’t want to miss this performance, even if our _friend_ here is an asshole.”

There was a general mutter of consent from the rest of them, and they hurried Felix inside of the warehouse, elbowing their way through various muttered complaints to the side wall. What must have been a stage had been constructed at the back of the empty building, about tall enough that someone standing on it would be mostly visible by everyone else.

Felix had actually heard music before. He had to have; not only did he learn to dance to a small piano and its simple melodies, scales and chords, he knew he had heard Sunglasses At Night at some point in his life. No one had ever sang to him, not before _Misty Mountains,_ but that was irrelevant. This couldn’t be too different from that which he already knew.

“Why are there so many people here,” he whispered to Jeongin, who gave him an incredulous look. He didn’t reply, because at that moment a deep thrum ran through the warehouse, shaking the very bones in Felix’s body.

“Be quiet,” someone whispered in his ear, but Felix’s eyes were already glued onto the stage, entirely silent as the floor lights faded and the spotlight shuttered on with a tremendous crash. Sunmi in her yellow dress stepped out onto the stage, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

She stopped in front of a microphone stand and held it in one hand, looking out at the crowd. Felix was a little closer this time; he could see the pale hair that framed her face, how it looked choppy, as if she had cut it herself. Her face had a timeless quality to it, eerily beautiful, with clear skin and full lips and eyes that looked directly into his soul, even when she wasn’t facing him.

“Everyone,” she said into the microphone, the word loud and deep. “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd, as if they had waited for those words to spark them into frenzy. Felix wished he had his hands free to cover his ears as the Stray Kids around him leapt into the air and screamed with the rest of the crowd.

Sunmi raised her hand, and the noise of the crowd fell dramatically, though not into the silence it was before. Felix noticed a man come towards her from the other side of the stage, and his heart thudded in his chest before he noticed the man also held a microphone. Excitement rippled through the crowd, most likely those who had also seen the man, and Felix strained his ears to hear something like _“Taemin”_ before Sunmi spoke again.

“It is an act of rebellion to make this noise,” she declared, pausing after each sentence for the crowd to cheer again. “An act of resistance against a power that wants us dead. But they cannot stop the music. As long as there is a voice, the voice will be singing.”

The man onstage lifted his microphone to his mouth as Sunmi turned to look at him; everyone who had not seen him already gasped, and cheered as he said, “In the dark times, will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times.”

Felix bit his lip. Whether it was because of the volume of them, or what they said, the words found themselves a place within his heart, his bones, something that could be called his soul, and settled there. They consumed him so entirely that he no longer felt the bindings on his wrists, or the hands holding him in place.

“We are living creatures, and there is such beauty to us,” Sunmi continued. “There are songs and paintings and stories and they will not be silenced. There is no existence without art — to exist is to create. We look at what everyone else has made of the world and take it and thus make sense of the wondrous thing that is being alive. So I am going to sing to you tonight. I am alive, and so I sing; I can only hope that this act will tell you something about who you are and what it means to live in this world.”

“Once we’re done,” the man onstage said, “it will be hard to go back to where you came from. You will not be the same person that made the journey here. But go, and go quickly and quietly. Know that where there is art, there is love, and that will stay with you as you continue to exist in the world we live in.”

He and Sunmi looked at each other, nodding in agreement. He disappeared into the shadows of the stage, and Sunmi was left alone in front of the crowd, with her bright yellow dress and her microphone, and eyes that glittered in the spotlight. It was as if she had been born under the thing. There was no other place on earth that would make her shine so brightly.

She ripped the microphone from its stand, handing the stand off to a waiting hand as the crowd screamed at her in joy. Lifting the microphone and flicking her hair out of her eyes, she looked out into the crowd, a short breath caught in her throat, and began, then, to sing.

_“Hey, yeah, yeah… hey, yeah, yeah…”_

There were no instruments to back her up, but she had no need of them, not yet. Her voice rang clearly in the warehouse, even over the excitement of the crowd, as she whispered her lyrics. They chanted her name, _Sunmi, Sunmi, Sunmi,_ and she smiled at them, bright red lipstick pushing her cheeks up.

_“My body and head are spinning,”_ she sang. _“How are you feeling now? We are like magnets, we hug and push aside.”_

The words, not to put it lightly or exaggerate in the slightest, punched directly through Felix’s chest and stole the air from inside him. He could do nothing but hold his breath and listen. Sunmi, onstage, pulsed her body to a rhythm only she could hear, spinning around onstage as if she was dancing, though it was no dance Felix knew.

_“You make me crazy and out of my senses — yes, you may know that you make me out of my mind.”_

The words came faster, though still whispered, slithering across the floor as if sand chasing the wind, crawling up Felix’s body until they had completely covered him. Taemin had come back onstage, and Sunmi crashed into him, staring deep into his eyes as she sang into the microphone as if her eyes and her lips were two entirely different things with entirely different needs. He held her steady and moved with her as they began to dance onstage, never once looking out at the crowd going crazy.

_“You make me dance, and drunk without alcohol… yes, you may know that you make me a naughty girl,”_ Sunmi sang, a small laugh in her voice, as if she knew the secret of the joke.

Felix thought he could feel his feet start to rise from the floor. There was something, something — _something,_ and he imagined that if he moved, he could start to understand the shape of it. It made his knees weak and his hands tremble and his mouth water. He wanted it. As he stared up at the two figures on stage, he _wanted_ it.

Taemin let Sunmi spin away from him, their arms snapping out so they could clasp hands once more the mere second before they could be out of reach, and from the speakers came a beat, then another, and Sunmi began to sing fully, music finally accompanying her.

This was it. There was nothing more to do; no defenses, nothing that could halt this.

_“In a movie only for us, the real hero was you, baby — ! As always the way you do, like a splendid hero, do what ever you want — yeah, yeah, even if you’re mean, and you make me sad, you need to be yourself — yeah, yeah, even if I’m not feeling well — and it’s a sad ending — ”_

Felix floated above the crowd. It was as if Sunmi stared directly at him, singing her words for him and him alone. Not even for the other man on the stage; not even for the people that had handcuffed him, who still held onto his arms even as they cheered her on. No. The song was just for him, just a boy; just a creature with no ground under his feet.

Sunmi paused for a moment, the music fading slightly. Her eyes swept over the crowd, and she seemed to find Felix, covered in her words, his feet unable to touch the ground, and smiled. The words she sang were in English, and they ripped a hole in his chest, tore his heart open and exposed him to the world.

_“The show must go on.”_

The crowd cheered the words with her, and the song continued, as she and Taemin danced onstage with their limbs and chests moving in ways that Felix had never seen before, sharp movements that spoke of aching desperation, something that could only be rebellion in a world that would not let them exist the way they were meant to.

_“The show must go on!”_ Sunmi sang once more, breathless.

Felix swallowed thickly. She sang with everything she had; her face contorting around the microphone as she all but screamed her lyrics with desperation, with nothing that could possibly hold her back. Even if they came right then, everyone who wanted them dead, Sunmi would still be singing. She would be singing as they took her away, singing as they locked her somewhere dark and deep, singing right up until they cut out her tongue — 

_“The show must go on,”_ she sobbed into the microphone. Taemin clung to her, and Felix realized that half of the song had gone by, and he was catching the very last piece of it.

Sunmi raised her finger in the shape of a gun and pointed it somewhere above their heads, staring a thousand miles away in the same direction. Felix couldn’t look away from her face; what emotion was there? She was laid entirely bare, and though he couldn’t put a single name to what had come up to the surface, he knew it intimately and perfectly.

_“The show must go on,”_ she whispered. Still staring far into the distance, she mimed shooting with her finger gun, the bullet arcing far above any of their heads, the recoil making her drop her hand, lifeless, to her side. The music had otherwise stopped. All there was, was her voice.

_“You must go on.”_

Sunmi's head dropped, her body going suddenly limp, as if she had been shot by her own bullet. Taemin was the only thing keeping her upright, and she did not react in the slightest to the crowd screaming underneath her.

Gradually, Felix became aware, once more, of the floor under his feet. The Stray Kids were losing their minds around him, jumping into the air and waving their arms around, screaming Sunmi's name with the rest of the crowd. Felix let himself be jostled. There was little else he could do — the song had opened a hole in him, and something inside of him was bleeding out.

And, as Felix watched the stage with wide eyes, the performance wasn't even over yet. A guitar whined some high note, and the crowd continued to cheer as Taemin slowly let Sunmi slide from his arms, beginning, slowly and quietly, to sing.

_"Get drunk with this strange mood... you can let yourself go, but you can't escape from me — not now, when we have become so listless."_

He began to move onstage, subtly shifting his limbs with a self-control almost impossible to replicate. Felix wondered, for a moment, where these people had learned to dance. If they had had any training at all, and didn't just let their bodies fling themselves through time and space.

Sunmi had picked herself up from the floor, and stood there onstage, watching Taemin dance with a predatory gaze. Her eyes were dark and heavy, and Felix felt himself linger on her, the face she had put on.

_“So your neatly brushed hair can get tangled_ _—_ _leave it alone, you’re beautiful… Even if your proper stance becomes loosened, it’s alright, look straight at me — oh yeah…”_

The music swelled, and suddenly dropped away, catching Felix unaware. He held his breath as the song swirled around him, a dark cloud of a dark feeling reaching inside of him, examining him, shining a light on the deepest parts of him.

Taemin and Sunmi stood side by side onstage, looking out at the audience with equally predatory expressions. This time, they skipped over Felix. Good. He didn’t know exactly how they would find him wanting.

_“The moves are starting again, under the dark lights… your elegant gestures, secretive looks — you reflect on the clear window, your flickering moves with this strange feeling — this breathtaking attraction — !”_

Was this dancing? Their limbs stretched, arced so carefully in synchronization; each movement was controlled so completely. Felix couldn’t tear his eyes away from them.

_“You got, got the rhythm… you got, got the rhythm,”_ Sunmi sang in English. They held their arms in front of their face as Taemin continued, his voice smooth and uninterrupted.

_“For a moment, I erased everything. Only relying on my sight — with awe, I’m only looking at you.”_

They moved almost as if they thought they could take flight. Their bones stretched the limits of their skin, forever trying to go beyond, to break the boundaries of what it meant to be human. At the same time, they touched their cheeks, their arms so gently, as if they cherished the bodies they had, as if they cared more than they could express for the creatures that they were.

Would anyone love Felix like the creatures onstage loved themselves? Or would he have to take that task on alone?

_“Not a single expression, not a single sentence can express all of you,”_ Taemin sang. He sounded so desperate, and for the first time his voice trembled, crawling away at the ends of his phrases as if he could hardly stand to breathe them. There was so much he wanted to put into the words, achingly obvious in the way he held them back. _“Because we’re perfect just the way we are. Don’t even worry at all.”_

_“Just like that, repeat,”_ Sunmi murmured. They repeated the phrase to each other, their voices overlapping in dangerous harmony, the music beginning to squeal and rise. Felix felt himself stretch taller, felt his shoulders, his hackles rise to meet the tension in the sound. _“Just like that, repeat. Just like that, repeat…”_

The music dropped — that was the best way he could describe it — and everything that had been held back up until that point was set free. Always in sync, Sunmi and Taemin exploded in their movements, whirling around the stage and reaching for each other, singing their words with overflowing emotion.

_“Your moves captivate me under the dark lights — ”_

_“You’ve got, got the rhythm — ”_

_“Your elegant gestures, secretive looks…”_

_“You’ve got, got the rhythm — !”_

_“You’ve got, got the rhythym…!”_

_“You’ve got, got the rhythym…”_

_  
“You’ve got, got the rhythym…”_

_“You’ve got… got…”_

And just like that, it ended.

Sunmi and Taemin were left onstage, staring at each other with those expressions Felix couldn’t name. Their ending poses left them in strange, contorted positions, but as the screaming of the crowd filtered through Felix’s consciousness, they slowly dropped the act, settling into their human shape once more.

“Thank you,” Taemin said, breathing heavily into his mic. “That’s all we have for you today. Keep this in your hearts.”

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams,” Sunmi said once more. She was equally breathless, and her bright lipstick had smeared across her cheek. “Thank you. Good night.”

They left the stage, and the warehouse gradually began to empty. Felix’s Stray Kids had managed to wiggle their way closer to the stage than they should have, at the cost of being close to the wall, so they stood there and waited for the place to empty. No one held onto him, but he was so full of the music that he didn’t even think of running.

But he was coming down from it — from the high the music gave him. He realized he was breathless as well. Not in the same way as Jisung, who still jumped around in excitement, or Changbin, who stared at the stage wistfully. His breathlessness was born of the experience of renewal, or rebirth if he wanted to be dramatic, the feeling that what he had been before had been blasted away by this sound.

Like he said before, he was bleeding out. Out with the corrupt and in with… something new.

He was almost fully back to himself when he was grabbed. His music-addled mind didn’t react at first, thinking it was probably Hyunjin or Jeongin securing him once more — but they were singing the songs as they waited, so that didn’t make any sense — and then he was being pulled away from them, his feet stumbling over each other as they were forced to move.

“I thought you died,” a hot, heavy voice said in his ear. “It would have been an _honor_ to kill you. No matter — you’re mine now.”

Felix recognized the breath heavy and hot on his ear at once — Ah Minsoo. All the ugly things about the world returned to Felix at once. There was music, sure, but the entire world wanted the music gone.

Felix _didn’t_ like being taken from Stray Kids. They’d been good to him, despite them being enemies; he knew what they wanted from him. In a way, he thought he knew what Ah Minsoo wanted from him as well.

Before they could get too far, Felix dropped to the ground, pulling his arm from Minsoo’s grasp. The people in this space had spread out somewhat, so he had room to roll away and scramble to his feet once more. Once they realized that there would be a fight, they cleared out even more.

“Don’t touch me,” he told Minsoo, who snarled at him and lunged once more. Felix stepped out of his way, silently cursing the handcuffs. He’d be able to fight just fine with them, but they were annoying regardless.

Minsoo whirled on him, swinging a fist into his side and making him stumble. He was an entirely different class of strength from what he was used to fighting, and Felix’s way of ducking and weaving would be hindered by the handcuffs.

Felix slammed his knee into Minsoo’s gut, managing to knock him back a step, if that. A fight in close quarters like these played to Felix’s favour. If his hits were going to have such little impact, then he’d need to get close and hit smart.

There was nothing in him that cried out at the thought of playing dirty, so Felix drove an elbow into Minsoo’s face. The other stumbled back even further, but came back just as fast and much angrier, pushing Felix’s shoulders and punching the forearms he’d brought up to block his own face. He was close enough that Felix could kick him in the stomach, though like his knee it didn’t do much expect push him back.

With space between them, they both paused for a breath. Felix felt his forearms sting and knew that he wouldn’t be able to take many hits like that.

“You fucking dog,” Minsoo spat out, and they rushed to clash once more.

Minsoo all but tackled Felix, driving his shoulder into his stomach and very easily folding him in half. There was no way for Felix to muscle through an attack like that, but as Minsoo rose to his feet, Felix gripped his disgusting, bleach-yellow hair, and slammed his face into his bent knee.

There wasn’t any way for anyone to muscle through an attack like that, either, and Minsoo crumpled to the floor. He wasn’t out all the way, and their eyes met as he scrambled to his feet once more. Shiny redness bloomed on his cheekbones and around his eyes. Hopefully they’d turn into wicked black eyes.

Hatred sizzled between them. Felix knew he was probably hated by just about everyone here; he was the Districts’ dog, their last weapon. His reputation preceded him. This felt a little more personal, as if Minsoo had a real reason to despise Felix.

With a wordless yell, Minsoo lunged at him once more. Felix side-stepped, and slammed his fists into the small of his back. They were both hitting each other with everything they had, and the force of his swing brought Felix to stand directly behind Minsoo.

Minsoo, with his bleached blond hair, greasy to the touch; his stained and tattered AD/DC shirt, his scuffed leather jacket. A rebel. An enemy.

Felix slammed a kick into the back of his knee, sending it to the floor and unbalancing him. He was shorter than Minsoo, but like this, even with the godforsaken handcuffs, it was easy to wrap an arm around this man’s neck, and squeeze. Too easy to just _squeeze_ —

Hands were on him, tugging at his arms, at his waist, trying to rip him off of the other. Felix doubled down on his grip, his hands holding each other, trying to press his forearms together; Minsoo’s sounds were ugly, and fading, and that was all that he cared about. That they were fading, that he was squeezing out the soul of this creature, that he was _succeeding._

Someone grasped his hands, and another held his waist, and at the same time they pulled Felix up and away. He saw Minsoo drop to the floor, and heard him suck in a rattling breath, but his view was quickly blocked by another body, crowding on him and forcing his hands to his chest. Felix tensed more than he had been and kicked out at the person, driving his foot into their stomach and pushing with all his strength. Whoever it was stumbled back, and Felix clawed at the hands hugging his waist. He was shorter than whoever was holding him, and was being held in the air, so he flailed his feet around at the same time he pulled at the hands’ thumbs, hoping he could drop to the floor.

“Yongbok,” someone said, their voice hot in his ear. “Stop fighting. It’s me.”

Felix slammed his head back, hitting the person’s face and stunning him enough to finally be able to drop out of his grasp. If he wasn’t so panicked, he would have lent a thought to whose voice that was — Hyunjin, and the face that had stared at him as they held his hands was Seungmin — but the information didn’t matter, not when he was surrounded by so many people that wanted him dead.

He dropped rather unceremoniously to the ground, but before he could spring to his feet once more, someone dropped onto him and pressed him to the floor. Their hands held onto his shoulders, and a knee dug into his stomach. They were saying something, but Felix wasn’t listening as he slammed his fists into the person’s side.

He wasn’t knocked off — his face contorted in pain, but all he did was tighten his grip on Felix’s shoulders and shake him slightly. Felix’s skull knocked against the ground, and he hissed in pain, wiggling around and trying to get Minho off of him, off, _off_ —

“Felix!” Minho roared in his face. _“Stop!”_

The sound that came out of him was undignified at best. A scream given no voice, held in the back of his throat by clenched teeth and a tightness in his chest. Minho’s face above him was contorted in fierce anger, and as Felix looked away, he saw Changbin help Seungmin to his feet, Jeongin steady Hyunjin, and the rest of the Stray Kids lingering nearby, staring at him with pale faces. He turned his face the other way and saw Minsoo, who had pushed himself to his knees and coughed thickly as he rubbed his throat.

“Get off of me,” he said, his voice weak.

“Felix — ”

“Get off!” Felix looked back up at Minho, unsure of what he was trying to do — he felt as if he looked like Sunmi at the end of her song, his face blown wide with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Please.”

Minho looked back at him, searching his expression, and slowly slid off, holding onto his hands in case Felix made one wrong move. His heart beat quickly in his chest, and he shook as he brought his legs under him to kneel.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Felix flinched hard enough that he elbowed whoever it was in the side. Whoever it was choked and stepped back, but Felix didn’t care much beyond the fact that the hand was off of him. He didn’t even care when Minho shook him and told him to _behave._ So many people thought they could touch him.

“What the fuck was that,” Minho demanded of him. “Yongbok, I know we’ve had our differences with the guy but you can’t just fight someone like that, out of nowhere, we had a truce — ”

“He tried to take me,” Felix bit out. The words gave Minho pause, and they stared at each other as the others clustered around Minsoo and their own Seungmin, who was still winded from Felix kicking him in his panic.

  
  
“He what?” Minho asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

“He recognized me and tried to take me,” Felix said once more. “What? Did you want me to go with him?”

That was a more challenging statement than he would usually make unprompted, but the adrenalin of the fight still clung to him as he stared up at Minho from his knees. Submission didn’t suit him and he wanted to make sure Minho knew it.

“No, of course not, you’re ours,” Minho told him, looking almost surprised at his own answer, but he quickly became distracted by Minsoo rising to his feet and the shout of _“You bitch!”_ that followed. “Ugh, motherfucker, he’s going to come over here.”

Felix was silent as Minsoo stomped in their direction, his arms tensing in anticipation of fighting once more. He was only slightly slowed by Chan and Hyunjin and the others, and his face was red with more than just the beginnings of the black eyes Felix had given him.

At the very last second, a woman in a yellow dress stepped between the two of them. Minsoo all but screeched to a halt, and the warehouse fell into a tense silence. The last few hangers-on had left, and it was just them in the empty space that had been so full just a few minutes ago.

“Ah Minsoo,” Sunmi said, her voice tight with anger. “Explain yourself.”

An angry finger was pointed in Felix’s direction, and Minsoo spit out all of the things he had done, the people he had killed, the lives he had ruined. He didn’t deserve to be here; he was nothing but wicked to his core, and the only way to deal with something like that was to put it out of its misery. Fair price for the misery it had caused.

“What’s the point of this music if it doesn’t reach the ears of our enemies?” Sunmi asked, her quiet voice cutting clearly through the tirade. “I sing for anyone who’ll listen, Minsoo. If this person wants to hear what I have to say, then I will let him.”

Minsoo looked between Sunmi and Felix with an incredulous expression. “Are — are you serious? Do you know how many people he’s killed? Do you know where he _comes_ from?”

“Of course I do. I would be a fool not to,” Sunmi said. “But what does it matter? He’s here now. Or do you want me to bring up your past sins and weigh them against his?”

Felix could see the muscles clench in Minsoo’s cheek.

“Get out,” Sunmi said, not waiting for a reply. “Get out of here, and never let me catch you coming back.”

“You can’t do that,” Minsoo protested immediately. “You can’t just kick me out!”

“I absolutely can, and I have. Leave.”

“You fucking _bitch,”_ Minsoo snarled, and made to lunge at her. Immediately, Taemin (who had been lurking, apparently) and a few of the Stray Kids rushed to hold him back, and began dragging him out of the warehouse as he screamed his abuse. Against Sunmi, her music, District 9, Felix himself. How they’d regret taking his side. No one paid him much mind, but Felix wondered.

Sunmi didn’t wait to watch him get dragged out, instead turning her attention to Felix himself, who was still kneeling on the floor with Minho holding his hands. She stared at him with another unreadable expression.

“Sorry about that,” Minho said, trying to break the tense silence. “We can leave too — ”

“No,” Sunmi said, cutting him off with a raised hand. Her eyes didn’t flick away from Felix even once, and he returned the favour. “What were you thinking, bringing him here?”

Felix felt Minho wince. “We just… wanted to come see you, and there wasn’t anyone that could keep an eye on him at home.”

“Well,” Sunmi said, then sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes with something that might have been repression or exhaustion. “Well, I’m glad he could make it, then. Did you have a good time?”

Her eyes had opened, but her forehead was furrowed, so Felix murmured a small “yes,” and then, after a moment, “thank you.”

A small smile fluttered over Sunmi’s face, only for a moment. “That’s all I can ask for. Now go home, and be safe.”

* * *

The ride back was awkward to say the very least. Minho sat next to him, and his hands kept coming to grip Felix’s own, as if making sure he wasn’t about to snap and attack them all. It was a little pointless; Felix knew better than to fight in a moving vehicle. Besides, there was barely any space in the van; Jeongin was squished between him and the window, and Hyunjin, Jisung, and Seungmin took the bench row in front of them, constantly brushing elbows and snapping at each other when they happened to man spread too far.

Changbin was the first to break the silence from his place in the driver’s seat. “So… what happened back there?”

Minho and Felix shared a look; Felix raised an eyebrow at him and let him explain. He was finished with the whole thing.

“Minsoo-ah tried to take our special little boy,” Minho said. Felix was almost offended but figured it was a fair price to pay for not having to talk. “If you can believe it, he acted in self-defense.”

Jisung scoffed in a way that made it obvious that he did _not,_ in fact, believe it. The rest of them ignored him and peppered Felix with questions, mostly asking what had happened during the fight, what Minsoo had said to him, things like that. It was easy to ignore them all.

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump anyone before,” Hyunjin mused. “You obviously could, like, what are those cuffs even really doing?”

“Didn’t want to,” Felix said. Everyone in the car exploded with shock. “What?”

“No, it’s just — ” Seungmin sighed in aggravation. “You could have cut and run. Why didn’t you?”

_Why not indeed,_ he thought. _What happened to loneliness, reaper?_

Unexpectedly, it was Jeongin who came to the rescue. “We talked about this ages ago, I think — you said it was because you didn’t want to fight us again, right? Because it would be pointless to try, or something like that.”

“I had a lot of excuses,” Felix muttered. “I should have left ages ago.”

“But’cha didn’t,” Minho teased, poking him in the side. “Now you’re stuck with us, you know.”

“Let him explain, guys,” Chan called from the passenger’s seat in the front, a much-coveted position. “I want to hear it, too. Why haven’t you left yet?”

Felix shrunk from their quiet, expectant looks. Even Chan had turned around in the passenger’s seat, bearing Changbin smacking him and telling him to sit facing the front, _I'm not that great a driver what if we get into a crash,_ to stare at him and wait for an answer.

“I didn’t want to go,” he mumbled, but it was enough for everyone to hear and cheer at. _“Does not_ mean anything.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Minho said, the joy evident in his voice.

Chan’s face brightened. “Does that mean you’re going to — ?”

“No,” Felix said, not even caring that he was cutting him off. No one paid him much attention — too overjoyed by his confession to actually pay him any mind — so he tuned them out, staring out the window once more. That was all he said for the rest of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! you might have noticed, but i have a set number of chapters up!!... it's subject to change though, so don't hold me to it.  
> me: wow my action scene in action two is really popular, maybe focusing on action in the story will help ppl notice it and have fun reading it  
> also me: *doesn't add any action until chapter seven, literally 25k words later*
> 
> i want to take an interest check, especially for writers — i'm thinking of making a discord server for skz fanfic writers. i haven't seen one around yet, which is strange, most other fandoms i've been in have something kind of like this? it's always nice to have that kind of support system, or to find betas, or just to chat and make friends. i don't have a lot of ideas for it yet, just kind of feeling out for what you guys think. it wouldn't be a server for this fic specifically, but rather for skz fics in general. please leave a comment below or dm me on twitter if you're interested in something like this!! <3 <3


	8. If I’m Not Back Again This Time Tomorrow, Carry On, Carry On

_“It would be good to hear their songs . . . reapers of the sweet-stalked_

_cane, cutters of the corn . . . even though their throats cracked, and_

_the strangeness of their voices deafened me.”_

The day after the concert, Felix asked for a clock, and after some fuss was eventually given one. It had a small place to display the date as well, and Felix was surprised to learn that two and a half weeks had passed since he had been captured.

This was not the first time he had ever been captured.

He didn’t especially like thinking about the other times this had happened, though; not everyone was as nice as these Stray Kids, obviously. But he had to follow orders, just like everyone else. When his supervisors said that he needed to be captured by the enemy then he would be captured by the enemy. Of course, sometimes he just couldn’t beat whoever he was fighting. He supposed he was lucky that none of them had ever decided to kill him before he could escape or be rescued.

Usually when rooting out a rebellion, Felix would find out everything he could about the group. Where they were hiding, their current aliases, where they were getting money, even where they were depositing their waste. Stray Kids were the exception — he honestly had no idea where he even was in the city.

God, he really rushed into this one, huh. Felix laid back and stared up at the blank ceiling.

Maybe if he asked for a desk they’d give him one of those too. As it stood, he had to think all of his deep thoughts while sitting against the headboard of his bed, on his floral-patterned bedsheets. He kind of wondered if he should ask for a comforter; it was going to get cold soon, after all, and he already wore a sweatshirt and thick socks to bed.

The idea of staying long enough to need a comforter, though… it felt too permanent. He had been here too long already. Even the clock was a step in the wrong direction. Two and a half weeks…

He reached for it, knocking over the other things on the beside table before finally finding the damn thing. It told him that it was 06:42 in black lines on a sickly green background.

He hadn’t been able to sleep. There were no windows in his room, but he was sure that if he was to look out, the sun would be peeking over the city.

From what he could tell, the others rose later in the day. He could usually hear them making their way around the flat with muffled footsteps and hushed words; it must not be easy to live in such a small space with so many people.

For now, though, it was quiet. Felix got out of the bed, and, without bothering to brush his teeth or his hair, made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He hadn’t been able to sleep, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sleepy, and he needed something to get him through the day.

There was someone already there, and there was already coffee burbling away in its pot. Felix froze in the archway and looked at Minho, who sat at the table next to the window with a mug and a paperback book and looked up at him as well.

“Hello, Felix,” Minho said.

Felix nodded at him in some kind of wary greeting, and gave him a wide berth as he gathered a cup and the sugar. The kitchen was quiet as he prepared his coffee, and whenever Felix glanced over, Minho was reading his book or staring out at Seoul.

There was another greasy, pink box on the counter. Felix peeked under the lid and saw that there were enough doughnuts and pastries to feed an entire army. Glancing at Minho to make sure he wasn’t looking, he snuck a small, powdered doughnut and ate it as quickly as he could.

Wiping his face clean of any powder, he made his way to the table where Minho sat. He set his cup down, but remained standing for another moment, watching the other as he flipped a page.

“Can I…?”

“Good morning,” Minho said lightly.

“Uh — good morning. Can I sit…?”

“I’m not going to stop you,” Minho told his book.

Still, Felix hesitated, and said, “You called me Felix.”

Minho looked up from his small paperback. “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

Felix decided not to reply, but he did sit down at the small table tucked into the corner beside the kitchen, directly opposite Minho. Their coffee cups steamed gently in unison.

“Should I not call you Felix?”

“Seungmin told you,” he said instead of answering. “Ages ago, right?”

“He told all of us.” Minho took a sip of his coffee and set it and his book down determinedly. “Should he not have?”

“I don’t tell very many people.”

“Evidently not. We combed through decades of research on you and only ever knew you as _Yongbok._ Why Felix?”

He hesitated, only for a moment. “It means lucky.”

“Do you feel the need to be lucky?”

“Do you feel the need to question everything I say? It’s one of the only names with an _f_ and an _x_ in it as well. How about that?”

“… why would you need a name with an _f_ and an _x_ in it?” Minho asked. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he took another sip of his coffee, squinting all the while.

“It’s my I.D. 1784le756flx.”

“Oh, I thought you chose the name yourself,” Minho laughed. “No. So it’s just something you hold… near and dear. Alright. I can respect you keeping secrets; I would probably do the same in your shoes. Oh, does this mean Yongbok is your unofficial name?”

“It’s my middle name. _Why_ do you care.”

“I like knowing everything,” Minho said. “Well, thank you for going on this honesty journey with me. It was very enlightening.”

“Why?”

“Why was it enlightening?… I learned things about you?”

Felix felt frustration rise in him. Talking with Minho proved to be nearly impossible even when he _was_ telling the truth. “Why did you call me Felix.”

“I’ll call you anything you want to be called,” Minho said. He took another sip of his coffee. “Unless it’s something like Supreme Lord Dickhead. I’d have to draw the line somewhere, you know.”

“I’m _not_ going to ask you to — ”

“I entertained J.One, and SpearB, and CB97, and I.N., and Han, again, and I’m surprised Jisung was allowed to have two nicknames when we all mostly got one… and Hyuni, and Seungmo — Seungmin still likes being called Seungmo, by the way, give it a try and see how he just melts — and I appreciated it when everyone told me that calling myself Lee Know was a stupid idea, but it’s still a fun nickname, in my opinion.”

“That was a very long and confusing list that I’m sure would embarrass any of the others if they were here.”

“Just wait until I find something on you.”

Felix sighed, decided to give up, and drank silently from his coffee. Minho picked his paperback up again, and the silence was occasionally punctuated by his soft gasps at what must have been really scandalous scenes.

“Oh, listen to this,” Minho whispered, and proceeded to read a passage that curled the ends of Felix’s hair and steamed up the window overlooking the city. Felix felt the blood rush to his face.

“What the _hell_ are you reading?”

“Nora Roberts.”

_“Huh?”_

“Romance was a billion dollar industry,” Minho sniffed. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

“I — I think I tried it.”

“Are you flustered?” Minho asked with delight. He leaned closer with a small smile on his face. “You are — oh, you’re blushing!”

“Jesus,” Felix mumbled to himself, hiding his face in his hands and sinking lower in his sheets. “Talking to you was a mistake.”

“Most people find that to be the case,” Minho declared. “It’s because I’m a scorpio.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, please tell me they didn’t deprive you of star signs. This is tragic. Oh my god, I have yet another reason to overthrow the government now. Thank goodness, I was running low on reasons why I hate fascism and totalitarianism and authoritarianism and — ”

_“No,_ I’m just saying I’ve known scorpios who aren’t half as irritating as you are.”

Minho laughed out loud, setting his paperback face-down on the table and leaning back in his chair. “No, you just met scorpios who are better at hiding it! Damn, guess I can’t overthrow the government now, though.”

Felix hummed noncommittally. Though his coffee had stopped steaming, he took a small sip — it was nearly empty at this point.

“Minho,” Felix finally said, swirling the last dregs in circles around the bottom of his mug. “If I asked you a question, how honestly would you answer it?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Can I ask you a few?”

“Oh, please do. If you want I can even tell you how honest I’m being.”

“That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Felix said. He sucked lightly on his teeth, and looked at the city skyline outside the window. What to ask…? “Do you know what Chan wants from me?”

“You ask that question a _lot,”_ Minho mused. “Do you even know how vague it is?”

“I hate to say it, but I think I know the answer already,” Felix told his coffee. “I just want to make sure. At this point, I’ll say anything you guys want, I’m _bored_ and it’s killing me… but at the same time, I don’t want to say what you want to know and get… sent off.”

“If you’re bored, read a book or something.”

“You know you didn’t answer the question.” Felix looked up at Minho; the other wasn’t even looking at him, instead ruffling his thumb over the pages of his paperback. It made a pleasant sound and Felix couldn’t even be annoyed.

Minho smiled thinly to himself. “I didn’t, did I? Well, here’s something that’s a hundred percent honest, guaranteed; I sure do know what Channie wants from you, and I know that he’s not willing to let you go so quickly either.”

“How’s he getting away with keeping me here? If it was me in charge, I’d want results; and if my people weren’t getting them I’d get them myself.”

“Lots of lying,” Minho declared.

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps telling us that that’s what we’re fighting for. Are you really so surprised?”

“I shouldn’t be,” Felix muttered. “Don’t you guys all trust each other, though? Isn’t that, I don’t know… important?”

“Oh, they all know Chan is lying to them,” Minho said. “Most of them are willing to pretend to believe him so he can do what he’s doing.”

“Which is…?”

“Writing the next great American novel in the basement.”

Felix blinked, several times. “… is that some kind of code, or something?”

“No, I’m lying because I don’t want to tell you what it is we’re doing, because then you’d know what we’re doing and it would stop happening,” Minho said, looking up at Felix with a wide smile. “Obviously that’s against our interests, you understand.”

Felix sighed in annoyance and decided to switch gears. “At the concert, you… you used my name. You called me Felix.”

“Yes, I did,” Minho said, his voice more gentle. “What else would you like me to say about it?”

“Why?”

Minho stared at him for a moment. “Go get the pastry box. I want a doughnut.”

Felix went and got the pastry box. The moment he set it down on the table, Minho grabbed a doughnut covered in chocolate frosting and ate half of it in one bite. He squinted at the contents of the box.

“There is one less powdered doughnut in here than there was when I bought it.”

“Is that so,” Felix mumbled.

Minho redirected his squint to look at Felix. “You want to make it two?”

Well, he didn’t need any more invitation than that. This time, Felix took his time with the powdered doughnut, checking often to see if there was any sugar around his mouth.

“So you want to know why I used your name, after your… altercation with Minsoo,” Minho mused as they ate their doughnuts. “Does there _have_ to be a reason?”

“So far, you’re the only one here who’ll call me that.”

“Even Channie won’t?”

“Nope,” Felix said, eating the last of the doughnut and wiping his mouth.

“Jeongin? Seungmin?”

“Suh — okay, yes, Seungmin will, but he said we’re friends so you’re the only one who doesn’t like me who will use my name. Why. Why’d you do it.”

“You say it like I murdered your grandmother,” Minho murmured to himself. “There honestly wasn’t a reason for me not to. And it snapped you out of whatever your issue was, didn’t it?”

“That’s the thing,” Felix stressed. “It _did._ And… like, how am I supposed to feel about that? The longer I’m here, the more I realize I don’t know how I should feel about anything.”

Minho pushed the box closer to him. “Have another doughnut.”

“No — ” Felix pushed the box to the side with a sigh. “Having another doughnut is not going to solve my problems. And neither will reading a book, or going to a concert, or watching a cartoon, or whatever.”

“There’s a lot of work we all have to do here,” Minho said. He pulled the box back and took another doughnut. “For you to realize what your emotions are. Experiencing art isn’t going to feel like it’s doing anything, but I promise, it’s doing a lot.”

“How can it be doing anything when I can’t understand it at all?”

“No one understands art. That’s the point of it. Who knows what word to put to the feeling we experience when we look at a painting? We just know we feel something. And that’s the start of it.”

“What about the end?”

“Well, I certainly don’t know, Felix. There’s no _end_ to understanding or experiencing art. It’s a never ending story of discovery and depth.”

“That sounds complicated.” Felix ran his finger around the rim of his mug and stared out at the city. As they’d talked, Felix had looked out at the buildings across the way, shining yellow and red in the morning light. Their kitchen stood mostly in shadow, but a thin beam of sunlight hit a strategically placed green plant.

“I do hope you get it someday.”

“How honest was that?” Felix asked, not expecting much.

Minho looked at him with a strange expression on his face. “As honest as it gets, Felix.”

There was nothing he could say to that, and the two of them sat in silence until the others came trickling in, each thinking their own thoughts. Minho flipped over the paperback once or twice, but always returned to staring out at Seoul with Felix.

The sound of the coffee pot gurgling brought both of them somewhat back to earth, and Minho chatted gently with Changbin as Jeongin sucked Felix into a one-sided conversation. Coffee was made, and made again when it ran out, and the greasy box of pastries was quickly emptied.

Gradually, sunlight spread throughout the entire room. Someone cracked an egg into a pan, which prompted everyone to beg for their own. With no small amount of annoyance, Jisung set the carton beside the stove and began sliding fried eggs onto any plate that was shoved his way.

And so Felix found himself blinking at the egg set in front of him. He looked up at Seungmin’s proud grin, and at the fork and knife offered, and slowly, carefully, accepted the gift.

* * *

In an effort to avoid the library, Felix accepted Jeongin’s invitation to binge-watch the one and only season of _Freaks and Geeks._ Seungmin joined them the moment he heard what they planned to watch.

“I identify heavily with the main character,” he told them, getting comfortable on Jeongin’s plaid bedspread. Felix pressed down on the comforter and thought about asking him where he got it. The thought was only entertained for a moment before he settled on the outside edge of the bed, Jeongin squished between Seungmin and the wall.

_“I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation! Livin’ in the past, it’s a new generation! A girl can do what she wants to do, and that’s what I’m gonna do…”_

Felix had to lean back at the angry song exploding from Jeongin’s little TV. This show was a little more fast-paced than the sitcoms he’d seen, and it left him a little dizzy as he tried to make sense of it.

They were only ten minutes into the first episode when a knock came at the door. With a quick glance at the others, Jeongin paused the show and shouted, “Come in!”

The door opened only slightly, and Changbin poked his head inside. “Hey, guys. What’cha watching?”

_“Freaks and Geeks,”_ Seungmin told him.

“Oh, good choice,” Changbin said, but it was obvious that something else was on his mind. “How is it so far?”

“We’ve just started,” Jeongin said. “But pretty good.”

“Cool,” Changbin murmured, and the four of them stared at each other in awkward silence.

Eventually, Changbin broke it. “Hey, I hate to drag you away from your show, but… Yongbok, let’s go out.”

Felix stared at him, then at Jeongin and Seungmin, who shrugged. “Go where?”

“There’s a spot outside the city that’s nice. I figure you and I could talk.”

That was more than a little concerning. _They’ve decided that you’re too much trouble,_ a stray thought told him. _They’re going to shoot you out back. Like Old Yeller,_ the thought continued, sounding curiously like Jisung.

“Did Chan say I could?” He wouldn’t let himself forget that he was still their prisoner, technically. They had shown him great freedom, but he understood that he couldn’t just up and leave whenever he felt like it.

“Yeah,” Changbin said, a strange look in his eye.

Felix looked back Seungmin and Jeongin. The two of them seemed as confused as he did. _Probably because the others refrained from telling the younger ones that you were going to get shot._ This was probably the last time they’d see each other; Felix didn’t know how he felt about that, really. A small part of him cried out at the thought of saying goodbye, about sorrow for parting, but it was easily ignored.

“Alright,” Felix said, rising from the bed but not quite ready to leave. “I’ll… I’ll see you.”

“See you,” Seungmin echoed, raising a hand but not waving it. Their gazes lingered on each other, and Felix drank in the details of their faces, pale from the light of the television.

“Come on,” Changbin said as he slung an arm around Felix’s shoulders. It must have been heavy, but Felix could barely feel it with how strongly his gut ached.

_Is this really how you’re going to go?_ he thought to himself as Changbin led him through the building. _Like a calf to the slaughter… Are you so ignorant of the bolt gun pointed between your deep, dark eyes?_

Apparently, Changbin knew how to drive. There was a compact car parked in front of the building, black and unobtrusive, and Felix was quickly ushered into the passenger seat with little preamble. As Changbin made his way to the driver’s side, the glovebox stared him down. Should he open it? What difference would it make to know for sure the weapon of his destruction?

In any case it was too late. The sound of the car door opening brought Felix out of his thoughts, but he didn’t look as Changbin slid into the driver’s seat.

“The drive isn’t too long,” Changbin said, pulling the seat closer to the steering wheel. “Once we’re out of the city I’ll put some music on.”

“Okay,” Felix said. That was all he said for the rest of the ride.

This was the second time he had been outside of the flat since he had been captured, and the first time without a blindfold or handcuffs. Felix watched the people walking by, the trees shedding their leaves onto the street, the buildings high and shiny in the mid-morning light. Rarely did Felix have the chance to just… take in the world, and he wanted to see as much as he could before…

They crossed the Han River, having to stop on the bridge for the light to turn green; Felix stared out at the water, and at the buildings lining the river, and how all of it glittered in the mid-morning light.

Eventually, the tall buildings of the city melted into small houses, and parks and trees became more common. As he had promised, Changbin dug out a cassette tape and slid it into the car radio’s player. A soft sound played, high and thin, gradually filling out into something full and rich. It was as soothing as it was exciting, and though it was quiet, it filled the corners of his soul.

No matter how much he scoured every memory of his time at the District Nine flat, he couldn’t find a reason as to why they’d kill him now. Had he said something? Had he given them what they wanted? What was it? Did that honestly matter right now? This wasn’t a puzzle to be solved; this was his life, or his death, as it were, and they wouldn’t just let him go if he told them that he knew what they wanted.

Changbin took them down a couple side streets, and a couple alleyways, and very suddenly they were in the middle of a forest and climbing up a mountain. Logically, Felix knew that Seoul was built in the cracks between mountains; but knowing that, and suddenly finding himself on one of those mountains, were two entirely different feelings. It was nearly impossible to see the mountains from the road; at most, they could see small foothills, but either the barriers hiding the freeway were too high, or the buildings were too tall, and they could only catch little glimpses here and there of the actual height of Suraksan.

They drove up a lightly wooded foothill and into a parking lot, and the car stopped under a small copse of trees, hidden in the shade. There was no one else around but the music still cut off when the car powered down.

“We’re here,” Changbin said into the sudden silence, perhaps a little unnecessarily. “You up for a short hike?”

Their hike ended up being almost an hour long. It was nice, though; sunlight filtered through the trees, and the wind blew through the leaves. As far as long walks to one’s own execution went, this one was rather pleasant. They said little to each other, and Felix was left to his own thoughts.

Felix had been expecting to die for a very long time. It came with the job. Though he hadn’t expected it to come like this; an execution on a quiet mountain, in the middle of a sunny day, with him walking willingly to his end.

They came to a wooden staircase once the dirt path was too steep, and the trees thinned until the ground was more rock than anything else. When he looked out, hills rolled out from the trail to the city below. Everything was green.

The trail ended at the very top of the mountain. Felix leaned against a large rock, almost dizzy from the height, and looked out at all the world below.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Changbin said behind him. “I come up here a lot.”

All at once, the reality of this situation settled within him. At least he would have a nice view in his last moments.

“There’s a nice place to just sit and look over here,” Changbin said, waving Felix over to a spot that dropped perfectly into a view of the city and the mountains that surrounded it. From all the way up here, it looked clean, and shone white in the sunlight.

They sat down, taking care not to get too close to the edge, and sat in silence for a while. The walk up had been filled with the sound of the trees, and their laboured breath and dragging footsteps, and birdsong and small animals; but up here there was nothing but the wind.

“It’s a nice view,” Felix said, his throat sore and his voice thin from lack of use. “Thank you for bringing me up here.”

He stared down the slope, the untouched, green forest that ran away from them. That was where he was going to end up, he knew; his body rolling down these hills, loud in the silence, until he stopped and eventually rotted among the trees. He could already see the sunlight filtering onto his body.

“When are you going to…?” He couldn’t finish the question, but clenched his jaw, telling himself that he didn’t deserve to cry in the face of this.

“When am I going to what,” Changbin asked. “I thought we were just going to talk.”

“I won’t fight it,” Felix promised him. “I know I don’t deserve to; I can only just, accept it, I know…”

“Yongbok, you’re rambling,” Changbin said. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Felix glanced over at him, at how he squinted at him in the sunlight, how his dark hair was swept by the wind. It was hard to look at him, his executioner, but he sat there and forced himself to try to understand what things hid behind those dark eyes.

“I think I’m going to sit here, on the ledge, and you’re going to…” He mimed holding a gun, one hand holding the other’s fist, one finger loosely pointed at the city. Tilting his head to look down the imaginary sights, he fired a bullet at Seoul.

The two of them sat in silence for a long moment. Felix watched his bullet trace through the sky, a screaming arc of red sparks, and explode into brilliant fireworks above their heads.

“Felix, I didn’t bring you here to kill you,” Changbin whispered.

Felix hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head in them. He didn’t come out for a long time, and Changbin didn’t force him to; they were silent on the mountaintop, with the wind pulling itself through them and over them, and through the trees, and over the city below.

When he finally pulled back, and absent-mindedly ran his thumb over the wet spots on his jeans, the world was quiet still. None of it had changed. The same rocks, and dirt, and rolling green hills; and beyond, the city, a bright, shining spot in the sun, white between the trees.

“I almost wish you had,” he confessed, his words almost swallowed by the wind. “Don’t you think I deserve it?”

The wind half-swallowed Changbin’s words, but Felix heard him say, “You deserved a better life than what you’ve been given. But… you did what you could with what you were given.”

“How can you say that, after everything I’ve done…?”

Changbin sighed; when Felix glanced over, he was staring out at the view with a contemplative look. “When we heard you were coming here, we did a _lot_ of research on you, anything we could get our hands on… everything about your past missions, they way you operate, lead your teams, how you… do what you do best.”

“And what did you learn?”

“Nothing we hadn’t before,” Changbin told him. “There’s very little out there on you; for all intents and purposes, it’s like you’re a ghost. Officially. But… interviewing witnesses, survivors, even members of your team; looking into what had been hidden from the public, examining your briefings and reports…” Changbin was quiet for a moment, and they looked out at the city together. “You hesitated when you raised your gun at us. I saw — you almost didn’t raise it at all.”

Felix hugged his knees even tighter to his chest. “I can’t stop myself from hesitating,” he murmured. “I hated myself for hesitating as much as I hated myself for shooting them, in the end. Each time…”

Each time, he realized that he never wanted to touch a gun again in his life. After that brief moment of bitter wishing, he knew that living a life without the guilt that comes with holding a weapon in his hands was impossible for someone like him.

“We see so much in your hesitance,” Changbin said. “There is so much potential in that moment. There’s so much potential in _you.”_

“Don’t say such things to me,” Felix whispered.

“It’s the truth.”

Felix sighed, and swallowed thickly, pushing down the rising hope and the tears it brought with it. “I’ve had so many heavy conversations recently. Can we just…?”

“Of course,” Changbin said, and they sat together, talking about the television shows they’d seen, and the view of Seoul, until they decided to leave.

* * *

Felix watched Changbin unlock the front door, and then lock it behind them again, with interest. The keys disappeared somewhere on his person, which Felix also noted carefully.

Someone shouted, _“They’re back!”_ from the library, and Chan poked his head into the entrance hall, more than a little frazzled.

“Oh, you’re back, good,” he told them, ushering them into the library to join the others. Felix hurriedly threw off his shoes, letting them land somewhere in the pile of sneakers and boots near the door, and hoped that his favourite chair hadn’t been taken. “Come on, hurry, we’ve been waiting for you for ages. We’re having a meeting. Didn’t you get my texts?”

“We didn’t have service,” Changbin said, taking his time unlacing his Doc Martens. “And I had my phone on silent, anyway.”

“Where even _were_ you?” Chan asked.

“Suraksan.”

“Wh — oh, of _course,_ why didn’t I think of _a mountain on the other side of the city,”_ Chan griped. “The answer was so obvious. Are you serious? You guys went to climb a _mountain?”_

“Not all of us are averse to a little exercise every now and again,” Changbin sniffed. He peeled off one pair of socks to reveal that he was wearing two.

“You went hiking in _Doc Martens?”_

_“SOME-one,”_ Changbin shouted to the flat at large, “hid my hiking boots. This was the next best thing. It wasn’t even that bad.”

_“It was Hyunjin,”_ Jisung called from the library. The three of them heard a loud smack and an even louder shriek.

“Okay, okay, I’ll lay off of the Docs if you please just get into the library before the kids start murdering each other,” Chan whined.

“Isn’t Minho-hyung in there?” Changbin asked.

“You know he’s more inclined to join them than supervise them.”

“Fair,” Changbin muttered, and finally made his way to the library, limping only slightly.

“Those fucking shoes,” Chan muttered, following him closely behind.

Felix lingered for a moment. He was half-convinced that the other two had forgotten he stood there still; it happened sometimes, when he was quiet. Both here, among Stray Kids, and back in the Districts. People tended to forget that he was watching and listening.

Chan looked back at him. “Are you coming?”

“Can I get a glass of water?”

Chan looked at him askance, but only said, “Please be quick, Jisung and Hyunjin will honestly kill each other if they don’t have anything better to do.”

“What’s happening?”

“Like I said, we’re having a meeting,” Chan said, and that was all he would say.

Felix went and poured a glass of water from the kitchen. He drank it in one go, filled it back up again, and drank this one a little bit slower; he was tired from the walk, but this _meeting_ with Chan and the others made him anxious enough to stay awake. Today had one too many scares to be good for his heart.

Logically, he knew that they probably weren’t going to kill him. If Changbin wasn’t going to kill him on top of Suraksan, then they weren’t going to kill him here, and there was no use worrying about it.

But he still worried.

The others didn’t notice him walk into the library, except for Chan, who nodded at him in recognition. He let the argument between Jisung and Hyunjin play out for a moment longer as Felix settled next to Jeongin, and finally called them to order.

“Alright, we’re here for something _important,_ so if we can shut up and talk about it,” Chan told the room at large.

“Which one is it? Shut up or talk about it?” Minho asked.

Chan stood still in the center of the room for a long moment, pressing the backs of his hands to his eyes and muttering something to himself. He took a deep breath, rested his hands at his sides, and said, “Okay. So. It’s about time to re-evaluate where we stand on a _certain issue,_ I told you when we started that it’s a bi-weekly thing and it’s been two weeks, so here we are. This is the first time we have the elephant in the room,” he said, with a significant glance in Felix’s direction, who was slightly taken aback. Did he look like an elephant? “But he’s here because, for one, he comes out of his room way more than he did before our first meeting, and for two, it seems fair that he knows the outcome of this election. Any objections?”

Unsurprisingly, Jisung’s hand shot up. “Yes. I have many objections.” He turned to Felix. “Please get out of my house.”

Before Felix could tell him, _I would if I could,_ Chan dismissed Jisung with a gesture and a loud proclamation of, “He’s not going anywhere. That’s not what we’re here for. Please, Jisung, _please_ give me a valid complaint.”

“I have several, but it’s late and I want to go to sleep,” Jisung muttered. “Let’s just get this _election_ thing over with.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Hyunjin said, from right next to him. Felix wondered for a moment why they had been so loud before if they were sitting right next to each other, but dismissed the thought as unimportant.

“Alright,” Chan said. “Raise your hand if you trust him — ” he pointed at Felix, who blinked in a sort of vague surprise — “enough to _at least_ have a friendly, physical spar with him.”

Chan raised his own hand; and Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, and surprisingly Minho, all raised their hands as well.

Hyunjin and Jisung, who sat crowded together on an armchair that was really meant for one person, looked at the others with disapproval. “Seriously?” Hyunjin asked the room at large. “Minho-hyung, you too?”

“The wonders of getting to know someone,” Minho said. “Have you even had a conversation with him?”

“I have, actually,” Jisung shot back, but Hyunjin looked away. Minho and Jisung began to argue, and Chan put his head in his hands. Felix noted the dark circles under his eyes and maybe felt a little bad for him.

“Well,” Chan said to the room at large, clearing his throat pointedly when Minho and Jisung continued to bicker. “… Felix. If you’re interested in joining us, we’re going to pick up training as a group again; there’s a space in the basement we use for that, Jeongin can show you. Everyone else, let’s get going at eight in the morning. You two… can treat it as optional, for now.”

“We’ll be there, hyung,” Jisung said. “Bet on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading!! i don't have anything for 2k but my gratitude. i appreciate you guys so much. 
> 
> i've removed wj from this fic, so if you're inclined to go back and re-read the fic without him, i encourage you to do so. that being said, i'm going to take a short hiatus — i'll just miss one update, but i need to re-build my buffer for this fic. thank you for being patient with me <3 next chapter should be fun!! i hope to see you there <3 <3
> 
> also let's get the boys a WIN this comeback, back door is a bop and they deserve it so much!!!


	9. As If Nothing Really Matters

_“I hunger. My throat is dry. Now that the sun has set and I am chilled._

_I fear to call. (Eoho, my brothers!)”_

“We’re on the fourth floor,” Jeongin said, pointing at each button in the elevator in turn, “Which is actually the highest, except for the attic, which is mostly storage; the third floor is also residential, though we mostly use it for guests when they come. That’s actually where we held you when you first got here. The first floor is actually old office space we’re using as server space, and the second floor is where we plan everything. It’s basically our work space. The ground floor is just the lobby, you obviously went there with Changbin-hyung when you left for Suraksan… So, if you press the button for the fifth floor, you’re actually brought to the basement. But you need a key for it, which we have, so someone who just walks in from the street — though, you’d need a key to get into the building, but we’re not really sure who exactly Jennie-noona gives our keys to — anyway, someone just walking in from the street wouldn’t be able to go to our vast underground complex.”

“The words _vast underground complex_ coming out of your mouth is the strangest thing I’ve heard all week,” Minho mused aloud to the occupants of the elevator. “I think you’re trying to kill him with information overload before Jisung can even get his grubby little hands on him.”

“Hey, I am _not,”_ Jeongin said, with a fierce blush rising to his cheeks.

“It’s fine,” Felix said, not really paying attention to the others. He was far more interested in the panel of buttons Jeongin had explained to him. “How big is the basement?”

“Vast,” Jeongin said.

“It’s pretty big,” Seungmin told him. “There are a few different levels.”

“Which level are we going to?”

“The level with the training arena,” Seungmin said, sending a smug grin to Felix.

_“Arena?”_ Felix muttered.

“I told you it was vast,” Jeongin said, triumph tinging his voice.

Thankfully, the elevator jolted to a halt then; and as the doors slid open to reveal a curved hallway with white walls and fluorescent lights. It looked far too high-tech and clean to be maintained by seven boys ranging from teenagers to twenty-somethings, and Felix wondered. Maybe Jeongin’s Jennie had something to do with it. Or maybe they were genuinely neat freaks, though he hadn’t actually seen much evidence of that upstairs.

“The others should already be here,” Minho mused. “Maybe they’re waiting for us in the arena.”

“Just wondering,” Felix began, a little despairingly, “but exactly how much money do you guys actually have?”

“It’s not _our_ money,” Seungmin said. “Chan-hyung and Nayeon-noona have some friends that finance us. They bought this building, and very generously let us live here,” he continued, glancing up at a security camera tucked into the edge of the ceiling. When the others continued on without him, Felix looked back to see him send a finger heart and a big smile to the camera.

“So where is this place? We’ve been walking for a while,” Felix asked.

“You are just full of questions today,” Minho muttered to himself.

_“Just around the river bend,”_ Jeongin sang to himself with a self-satisfied grin. It was a little strange hearing English from him; Felix hadn’t thought he spoke it.

“What?”

“Just around the bend,” he repeated, this time in Korean. “We’re almost there.”

“Ah, I miss Rosie and Jennie noonas,” Seungmin said, jogging to catch up to the rest of them. “Do you think Chan-hyung will let us visit them if we asked?”

“Aren’t you done sucking up to them?” Minho asked. “The cameras can’t read our lips.”

“They’re our _friends._ I would like to see them.”

“And we’re here,” Jeongin announced, deftly cutting off the developing argument. He stopped in front of a door that blended into the off-white walls, and the four of them stepped into what Felix assumed to be an enormous gymnasium. The walls were soundproofed and pitted with tiny holes that extended for about sixty meters; shorter barriers and obstacles were scattered around the back half of the room, but the front half, near the door, was largely empty, save for some painted lines on the floor.

It was… large. Even a little larger than Felix had expected, though in all honesty, he hadn’t expected much. He’d genuinely thought that they shared the apartment building with other people until recently.

Chan and the others were discussing something when they came in, but they quickly dropped whatever it was and greeted them. “Glad you could make it,” Chan said. “It’s been a while since we’ve used this space; we were busy with, well, taking care of you.”

Felix scrunched up his face, but didn’t say anything else.

“Right!” Chan announced, clapping his hands. Everyone else jumped; they had been talking amongst themselves in the short time they had, and quickly turned their attention back to their leader. “We have all day to spend here, don’t we? To make up for the past couple weeks of slacking off.”

“We were _not_ slacking off,” Minho grumbled, at the same time Jeongin said, “Go easy on us, please, hyung.”

“I was thinking we could start with some stretching…”

“A good start,” Hyunjin said, though he still acted wary of what was to come.

“… then some one-on-one duels, though I’m not sure if I want them to be judged or just have ungraded practice…”

“God, I’m going to get murdered today,” Changbin muttered.

“… and if we have time and are not all dead, let’s split into four teams of two and conduct a single elimination, best-of-three tournament, why don’t we.”

Seungmin put his head in his hands and groaned loud enough for it to echo slightly.

“That should be a good schedule for our first day back on track,” Chan said, much too cheerily. “We’re out of practice! Soon enough we’ll get cleared to go on missions again and I do _not_ want Jihyo and Momo and the others to find us lacking.” He shuddered slightly. “You’re all very lucky that you don’t have to deal with them.”

“Can’t we, I don’t know, _build up_ to all this exercise?” Changbin muttered.

“This _is_ us building up to our old level of training.”

More than one of them whined at that. Today was going to be very fun for Felix.

“Alright! Quit your complaining and go stretch out. If you behave I’ll make the sparring graded so that you get breaks in between.”

They dispersed very quickly after that.

Felix was busy slinging an arm over his head when Minho slid over next to him, his own arm slung across his chest with his other arm stretching it out. “Hey.”

Felix raised his eyebrows at him.

“I didn’t see you drink coffee this morning.”

“I don’t usually eat a lot before working out.” He threw his arm out of the stretch and brought the other up; Minho gave him a sour look when he had to duck out of the way.

“Is that why you’re more of a grump today?”

“I am _not.”_

“Setting that aside for now.” Minho nodded his head towards Jisung and Hyunjin, who were off in a corner, sitting on the floor and conspiring with each other. “If you want me to keep those two away from you today, I can definitely do that for you.”

Felix gave them a considering look. As he watched, Hyunjin stuck his legs straight out and bent far enough over to hug them; Jisung winced, extended one leg, and grabbed his ankle.

“I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine,” he said.

Minho shrugged as best he could while stretching his arm. “If you’re sure.”

As they finished stretching out, Felix kept Jisung and Hyunjin in the corner of his eye. He’d been sabotaged and embarrassed before, but it had been a while since he’d worked out or trained with other people, and the anticipation of it loomed above him.

He fell out of his last stretch and shook his limbs. All he could do was focus on himself, he knew.

“Alright, looks like we’re all ready, so, sparring!” Chan announced. Everyone gathered around him in a loose clump, and Felix joined them, a little tickled at being a part of the group rather than the leader. “I’ll say that the first person to send the other to the floor wins. Um, Felix, why don’t you go first today? Guest of honor, and all that.”

Felix shrugged. “Sure.”

“Who wants to — ?”

“Me! Me, let me,” Jeongin all but shouted, throwing his hand into the air.

“Jeongin it is,” Chan said cheerily. All of them ignored Jisung huffing under his breath with grace. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s go,” Jeongin said, bouncing on his heels and bringing his fists in front of his face. Chan looked at him askance, and took one of his hands to bring his thumb out from under his curled fingers. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh,”_ Chan muttered. “Alright, get ready.”

As the rest of the others stepped back into a loose semi-circle around Chan, Felix got himself ready, shaking his hands out and widening his stance. His eyes met Jeongin’s, and in the split second they looked at each other, Jeongin winked and grinned.

Felix couldn’t really return the smile; he was a little worried about the others watching him fight like this. The last time he had fought, it had been against them.

“Since I’m like, basically a baby,” Jeongin said as they shuffled into position, “can you give me the first hit?”

“Uh, sure,” Felix said, a little taken aback.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll win anyway, I’m really crummy at fighting. I’ve got to use everything I have to my advantage.”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you, rascal. You two ready?” At their nodded agreement, Chan brought his hand down between them, hiding their faces from each other. The others clumped around each other a couple feet behind Chan, but Felix breathed in, breathed out, and set his mind on the spar.

_This is supposed to be friendly._ He was sure that if it was anyone but Jeongin fighting with him, he’d be beaten to a bloody mess. The expectations on him were different — they wanted to see what he was capable of, but he couldn’t actually hurt any of them, or they’d start hating him again. The fragile peace he’d struck with the others was — well, it was important to him, which was an odd realization to come to now of all times, and one that shook him a little badly.

“Go,” Chan said, and swung his arm away, quite dramatically. Immediately, Jeongin burst into giggles. Felix felt himself deflate slightly. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m taking this seriously! I am, I promise,” Jeongin protested, but the wide grin on his face said otherwise. “Okay, okay. Here. I’m punching him.”

He made a fist and began the process of an undercut, making a whoosh noise as he slowly brought his fist up. Just as slowly, Felix gently nudged his hand away, doing his best to keep a straight face.

“Ah, you managed to block my rapid undercut! But I bet you won’t see this one coming!” Jeongin declared, bringing his other fist up to gently float next to Felix’s face. _“Shzzyooooom.”_

“Oh no,” Felix deadpanned, side-stepping the fist and gently pushing it down towards the floor. “My crazy reflexes are just too fast.”

Jeongin giggled, struggling hard to focus and keep himself steady. “But did you expect my _super effective power kick?”_ He brought his foot up and, in a soft arch, brought it to lightly tap Felix’s side.

Felix took the kick and gently tapped Jeongin’s chest to send him off-balance. He slipped a hand behind Jeongin’s back to guide him gently, but put a foot behind the one Jeongin had supported himself on and bore him down.

“Ah,” Jeongin said as he felt himself lose his balance. He clung to Felix’s neck as he slowly went down, and they ended up loosely hugging each other on the floor, Felix holding him in a gentle cradle. “That’s not fair; you expected my super effective power kick.”

“Announcing your move five seconds before you started it clued me in. Sorry.”

“My bad,” Jeongin said with a wide smile.

“Okay, I can’t even be mad,” Chan said, as the others were either cackling madly ten feet away, cringing so hard they shrank a good few inches in height, or cooing over the sight. “Ten out of ten. You pass, or whatever.”

“Yay,” Jeongin said. His smile grew even wider, if that was at all possible.

“Get out of my sight,” Chan huffed, but Felix could see the smile he was fighting off, and the redness of his ears.

Jeongin continued to cling to Felix as the others were graded on their sparring. Jeongin wasn’t an incredibly touchy person, so the clinginess was mostly just him hanging onto Felix’s arm and intentionally bumping into his side every once in a while. But it felt nice. Most of the other spars were more serious. Seungmin tackled Minho to the floor, Changbin swept Jisung’s feet out from under him, and Hyunjin made a valiant effort to pin Chan before he was mercilessly thrown onto the ground. All of them winced. Even Chan himself.

“Uh, how about a fifteen minute water break, everyone.”

* * *

Once they came back, Chan brought them up a small, hidden staircase to a room overlooking the back half of the gymnasium. Felix was a little surprised at how high up they were, and how well they could see onto the arena, even with all the separating walls in place.

Minho slid up next to him. “If we were cooler, this would be, like, a control room or something that deploys robots. As it stands, it really just has an announcement system, which is… pretty accurate for our level of cool.”

“We’re higher up than I thought.”

Minho glanced at the windows. “Oh, not really.”

_“What?”_

“This is what the cameras see,” Minho explained. “You didn’t see these big old windows when you got in, right? That’s because they’re just screens. They’re mostly here for our monkey brains to not freak out about being in a tiny box inside a slightly less tiny box that’s many, many metres underground.”

“Oh.” Felix glanced at the windows one last time, then cast his gaze around the rest of the room, which was largely empty save a few chairs and couches scattered around.

“I don’t forget, though. I never forget,” Minho muttered, staring intensely at the fake windows. It seemed as if he’d forgotten about Felix, and he took the chance to slowly inch away, leaving the other to do whatever the hell it was he was doing.

He ended up next to Jeongin, who readily ignored Changbin to ask, “Is Minho-hyung freaking you out again?”

Felix grimaced, which was answer enough.

“Ah, just stick with me then, I won’t be weird,” Jeongin said, weaving his arm into Felix’s. “Promise.”

Felix didn’t quite believe him, but it was moot point when Chan gathered their attention once more and had them line up. He found himself between Jeongin and Minho — strange on one side, even stranger on the other, but what was new, really?

“We’ll split up into two groups, and then within those groups make pairs to fight against each other,” Chan said. “It’s so nice to have an even number, finally.” Felix wasn’t really paying attention; beyond Minho, and Seungmin next to him, Jisung was squinting at the line and counting under his breath.

“I’m one,” Chan said, pointing to himself. He pointed at Changbin next to him — “Two” — but was distracted by some shuffling down the line and whispered arguments. Felix didn’t pat attention until he was squished into Jeongin, and looked next to him to see Hyunjin staring at him askance, and Jisung leaning around him, shooting Felix a smug smile.

“Jeongin, you’re one, Yongbok, you’re two — uh — ” Chan made a few quick calculations as he looked at who was next — “Hyunjin is two, Jisung is one.”

_“What!”_ Jisung shrieked.

“Nope, no arguments,” Chan said quickly. “Minho, one, and Seungmin, two. And that’s final.”

With the expected complaints, everyone shuffled to huddle together with their group. Jisung scowled at Felix, but when Chan smacked his shoulder it turned into a pout.

“So…” Chan mused, “let’s see who I’ll pair up today… Changbin and Seungmin, you two; Yongbokkie and Hyunjin, you’ll pair up today as well…”

Felix glanced warily at Hyunjin, who met his look of trepidation with his own.

“As for my end, I’ll put Jisung with Jeongin, which — oh, fantastic! That leaves me with Minho.”

Jisung groaned. “You _always_ find a way to partner with Minho-hyung! This is blatant favoritism, you know.”

Chan grinned. “I know. Okay! Why don’t the four of us go first so we can show Yongbokkie how it’s done?”

Jeongin cheered with a smile, but the others were a little less enthusiastic.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Chan cheered as well, matching Jeongin’s enthusiasm. “We’re going to kick your teeny butts. Ready?”

Jisung grimaced, but the four of them left the room with only the faintest echo of him arguing about nothing again. Felix looked at who was left; Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Changbin looked back at him.

“Uh… so who’s in charge?” Changbin asked. Felix, Seungmin, and Hyunjin looked at him without saying a word. “Eugh.”

“Don’t _eugh,_ you’re the oldest,” Seungmin said. “You’re the hyung.”

“If I have to be,” Changbin grumbled. He fiddled with the intercom system as the others wandered into the gymnasium and set themselves up in a small area that could be a room with a catwalk lining the walls and a couple shorter walls between one side — Chan and Minho’s — and the other, belonging to Jisung and Jeongin. With a thick-sounding click, the intercom buzzed to life, and Changbin lifted the mic to his mouth. “Alright, you four, I’m in charge, unfortunately. Have you picked your sides and gotten your flags?”

Chan sent them a thumbs-up, and Changbin fiddled with some controls to zoom in on him. Felix wondered if he was already bored when he made the camera go around in circles.

“Is five minutes long enough? I don’t want to drag this out longer than I have to,” Changbin said.

Chan shook his head and held out ten fingers.

“You suck.” Changbin brought up a little pop-up timer in the corner of the screen — Felix began to hate the smallness of the room a little — and set it to ten minutes. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know.”

Felix watched the first couple minutes of the fight with interest — there was a lot of running around the walls, and everyone just chased after each other without real rhyme or reason — but as he kept watching, his mind drifted away.

“First round is without weapons,” Seungmin said, sliding close to Felix and bumping hips. “Hey, by the way. We’ll be able to use weapons if we want in the next two rounds, though.”

“Does it freak you out?”

“Hm?”

Felix nodded towards the screens. Changbin had zoomed out to see the entirety of the small area the others were fighting in, and they watched the four tiny figures clash. “That they’re not actually windows.”

“I guess I’m just used to it,” Seungmin said with a shrug, but they were interrupted by Hyunjin coming up to them and staring in silence.

Felix looked up at him. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, which was likely less intimidating than Hyunjin thought it was, and the three of them looked at each other askance.

“Hey,” Seungmin tried, but the silence persisted.

Finally, Hyunjin said, “Don’t fraternize with the enemy.” It was unclear if he was talking to Felix or Seungmin, but he took Felix’s wrist and dragged him away regardless. The two of them plopped down heavily onto a leather couch that groaned under their sudden weight; Felix squished himself into the armrest as much as he could, and on the other side, Hyunjin did the same.

“So,” Felix tried, but Hyunjin shot him a venomous glare. “Do you want to talk about what we’re doing to do down there?”

“Just stay out of my way,” Hyunjin told him, and that was all he would say.

Felix leaned against the back of the couch (it was surprisingly comfortable, though he wasn’t keen on leather couches as a general rule) and squinted at the screens as the tiny figures ran around, crashing into each other. It was a little easier to see here, on the far end of the room from them, that they were indeed screens; they had a faint glow to them that reflected onto the ceiling and the control panel Changbin fiddled with.

“That kills Minho-hyung,” Changbin announced. Next to him, Seungmin laughed meanly, and one of the tiny figures on the screen skulked over to the side to sit and watch the rest of the match. There were only a couple minutes left, and it seemed as if Jeongin was sprinting away from Chan as fast as he could, a tiny splotch of red in his hands.

“And,” Changbin said as Jeongin made it into his home base, “Chan-hyung couldn’t run fast enough to win this round. What a slow baby. Good job to Jisung and Jeongin, we love you and we’re not going to use the same arena since yours is going to be super smelly.”

There was only a moment of Jisung’s angry shouting before Changbin slammed his fist on the mute button. “We’re coming down,” he told the microphone, and Felix took that as his cue to get off of the couch and psych himself up for his first fight.

They met up on the staircase, but didn’t say anything other than general _good luck_ and _good game_ type phrases. Jeongin paused on the step above Felix as they passed, and squeezed his hand before letting it fall.

It kind of felt as if he was marching to his doom. Felix had _trained_ before; he’d played Capture the Flag and fought against capable people, but this moment filled him with a sort of anxiety that he hadn’t felt in years.

_This is just another hunt,_ he told himself. _Just like any other day._

The four of them picked a room that had a tall wall right in the middle and two painted boxes on the floor. Seungmin and Changbin put their green flag in the far box, and Hyunjin did the same with their orange flag. Felix kept waiting for Hyunjin to tell him if he had a plan, but the other ignored him whenever he tried to talk. He only stopped Felix from stepping out of their box, saying that it wasn’t time yet, or something like that. It was more than a little frustrating.

_“You have ten minutes,”_ Chan said, his disembodied voice floating around the arena. Felix glanced around for cameras, mics, and, perhaps foolishly, the big windows, but found none of them. _“Are you ready?”_

Felix assumed that Seungmin or Changbin sent an okay signal, because Chan said, _“Alright, go!”_

And, as if a switch had been flicked inside him, Felix fell right into the mindset of the hunter. He debated for a second between guarding the flag and going after the others, but Hyunjin sprang forward, and without thinking, Felix followed suit.

They veered off in opposite directions — the wall didn’t completely separate them, but ended a meter or so from the boundaries of the room on both ends, leaving them space to squeeze through. Hyunjin went to the opening on the left, and Felix lost track of him as he threw himself next to the opening on the right and crouched next to the wall.

He only risked peeking into the other side for a moment, but it was enough to see Seungmin and Changbin hovering around their flag defensively. It was a big thing, bigger than what Felix thought it was from just seeing it in the screens — one would need two hands to carry it all, and even then it seemed as if it would drag on the floor at the worst time.

For a minute, no one moved. Hyunjin was also hiding behind the wall, on the opposite side from Felix; they didn’t look at each other, or speak, just hid in silence.

Suddenly, Hyunjin broke away from the wall and sprinted towards the flag. Seungmin broke off, and the two of them clashed, Seungmin throwing the first punch and Hyunjin blocking with ease.

Felix glanced at Changbin. Luckily, the other was absorbed in the action, and Felix crept forward, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

He wasn’t very lucky — he only made it a few crouched steps before Seungmin shouted, “Changbin, your left!” With some disappointment, Felix began to run towards the flag, giving Changbin a wide berth as he approached. He remembered exactly what Changbin was like with his fists and was not keen on expanding upon his knowledge.

He knew what kind of expectations were on him in this fight. It was _friendly_ — he had to be nice, and generous, even if he loathed the idea. Especially in this situation. There was no way he could actually hurt any of the others without being deemed a monster.

So he avoided Changbin as much as he could, weaving around his punches without returning any of his own. With this limitation, he couldn’t get past him to get to the flag, and Hyunjin was still occupied on the other side of the room with Seungmin.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Changbin asked, after the last punch Felix had dodged. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

Felix shot him a venomous glare. “Do you _want_ me to hurt you?”

“That’s the whole point of this,” Changbin said. He sent an uppercut Felix’s way, which was easily dodged. “If I don’t get hurt, I don’t get better. Come on. Hit me.”

“No.”

“If you don’t hit me, you’re not getting past me. Come on.”

“ _No.”_

“Yongbok. Come _on.”_

Felix felt his jaw clench in irritation, and before he could even think — no consequences, no fear, nothing but cheap anger at this terrible goading — he slammed his fist into Changbin’s face.

Changbin toppled to the floor at once. Felix froze for a moment, staring at him as he cradled his face, but he was in the middle of a fight, he couldn’t forget — so he stepped over Changbin as he groaned and made a beeline for the flag.

He barely stepped over the line when Seungmin barreled into him, knocking him to the floor. Felix rolled onto his back in a panic, internally freaking out about someone _on top of him, get him off, get him off_ — and kneed Seungmin in the stomach before knocking a supporting arm from under him and rolling away in the opposite direction. Seungmin crashed down where his arm had held him up, but sprang up remarkably fast, apparently choosing to ignore his forming injuries as he raised his fists in defense.

There was a small grin on his face. Felix took several steps back, still coming down from his terror, and glanced at Hyunjin, who lay on the ground. There hadn’t been an announcement about his elimination from the round — there would be, he was pretty sure, Changbin had announced Minho’s death earlier — so presumably he was just trying to get his legs underneath him. But he could only spare a second to look before Seungmin began to goad him on.

“I never actually got to fight you,” Seungmin said. “All those weeks ago.”

“It was only, like, two weeks ago,” Felix muttered. “Do you really want to fight me that much?”

“I want to see what it’s like, sure,” Seungmin said. He kept that small smile on his face, almost a taunting smirk if it wasn’t so genuinely excited. “There are stories. You’re basically a legend. All the things you’ve done… and I get to fight you and tell everyone about it.”

“You want to fight me for _clout?”_

“Is that so bad?”

Felix almost wanted to roll his eyes. He settled for stepping into Seungmin’s face and aiming a sloppy elbow at his head. Seungmin ducked, and shot a quick jab into his side. Felix brought his arm down and smacked Seungmin’s hand away before it could even get close.

“Take this seriously,” Felix said, a little condescendingly, he’d admit.

“You first,” Seungmin shot back. He had backed up slightly, still in front of the line; Felix heard the sounds of a small scuffle behind them, and assumed it was Hyunjin and Changbin fighting. “Pay attention to me, Felix. We can tell how much pent-up energy you have — you haven’t done anything physical in two weeks, as you said.”

“I went hiking.”

“Was that really enough?” Seungmin didn’t wait for an answer. “Come on. I want to fight you, and you need to fight _something,_ or you’re going to explode. So _you_ take this seriously. You won’t win unless you actually fight us.”

Felix bit back the idea that there were more important things than winning some inane Capture the Flag game, but Seungmin was right — the adrenalin coursed through his body, made his hands tremble, and there was no point holding back.

“You asked for this,” Felix muttered, and swung a fist into Seungmin’s side, too fast for him to dodge. He paid no attention at the small, pained wheeze, and gripped Seungmin’s upper arms hard enough to bruise; with the leverage, Felix planted himself firmly, swung them around until Seungmin was tripping over his feet far away from the lines of his box, and pushed him into Hyunjin and Changbin’s fight.

The three of them toppled over themselves, and Felix wasted no time checking up on any of them. As quick as he could, he gathered up the green flag — it was tied firmly around a small stake, as their own was, and it took him longer than he wanted to untie the damn thing — and when he turned around, he was face to face with a fuming Hyunjin.

“I told you not to get in my _way,”_ Hyunjin growled.

“I didn’t.” Felix clutched the flag closer to himself and peered around Hyunjin’s looming frame; Changbin and Seungmin were checking on each other, helping each other to their feet. Both of them moved slowly, and stumbled over themselves more than once, and Felix winced slightly. “Come on, we need to get this to our home base — ”

“Give it to me,” Hyunjin snapped, yanking the flag out of Felix’s grasp. “And — ” he stepped to the side, giving Felix a clear look at Seungmin and Changbin — “keep them entertained.”

Felix could barely choke out a confused question in the split second before Hyunjin shoved him towards the others. It made him stumble over his feet, and before he could regain his bearings, a foot connected with his side, sending him to one knee, clutching his stomach and waiting for his breath to return to him.

Anger — real, true anger — burned in his ears and behind his eyes. With a scream hidden behind his teeth, Felix lunged up at whoever had kicked him and tackled the hot, stocky body to the floor.

Felix sat back on his knees, above Changbin’s stomach — it registered that he was the one who had kicked him, but the anger burned too fiercely for Felix to care in the slightest — brought his fist back, and cracked Changbin across the face.

His other hand fisted Changbin’s shirt, and he was about to punch him again, when Chan’s voice crackled over the intercom system. _“Alright, that kills Changbin, Felix.”_

Felix froze. His chest thumped hard, once, twice, and then he realized that he wasn’t breathing in the exact moment Changbin started to weakly push at his chest. Felix scrambled off of him in a heartbeat, and watched with wide eyes as Changbin pushed himself to his feet painfully. With a grunt, Changbin checked under his nose, looking thoughtfully at his fingers as he said, “Damn, Yongbok, you really murdered me.”

Felix said nothing as Changbin tottered away. He was reminded of the stab wound he had given Changbin only two weeks ago, and how it was nowhere close to being healed; about all the other injuries he had given the others as well… and his own. His own face was torn down the middle.

There came a hand on his shoulder, and Seungmin’s voice whispered, “Felix. Get up.”

To Felix’s credit, he only tensed for a moment. With a deep, steadying breath, he brought himself to his feet, and he and Seungmin watched as Hyunjin made it to their home base with the green flag in his hands. They barely waited for Chan’s voice to say _“Hyunjin and Felix win, good job guys”_ before they all made their way back to the room with the screens.

Changbin jogged a bit to catch up to Seungmin and Felix as they walked, but only tapped Felix’s shoulder and said “good game” as he jogged on. Neither of them said anything as they continued on, but Seungmin lingered by Felix’s side.

The four of them met the others halfway down the stairs. Jisung immediately began to complain. “This motherfucker,” he declared with barely restrained fury, “said that I was biased!” He pointed at Chan.

“You _were,”_ Chan said. “Tell me who kept saying Yongbok should have been killed by every glancing blow?”

“He should have been!” Jisung protested, but Chan rolled his eyes and directed his group down the stairs.

Felix climbed the last few stairs, but hesitated at the door. The thought of being in that room — he knew it was technically no different from being in the arena below, but the smallness of the room, the darkness of it, and the faint glowing of the screens, made him more than a little nervous.

He turned to Seungmin. “Can I sit on the stairs?” Felix asked. “The screens…”

The others looked at each other. “Well, sure, just don’t do anything weird,” Changbin said.

“You’re really going to leave him unsupervised?” Hyunjin protested.

“There’s nowhere else to go but back down to the floor, so that’s not really a problem,” Seungmin said.

Hyunjin fixed Felix with a sharp glare. “Do the screens really bother you that much? Or is it me? Is it working with me? Is it working with any of us? Is it really just the screens, Yongbok?”

“… yes, it really is just the screens,” Felix said. “Let me know when we’re meant to go again.”

Hyunjin turned on his heel with a huff, while the other two just shrugged. “Alright. We’ll bring you to the weapons cache later, don’t let me forget,” Changbin said. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I just don’t like the screens,” Felix muttered. “See you in a few.”

Still, Seungmin lingered behind. “Are you upset because you killed Changbin? Don’t be,” he said, and Felix kept quiet. “That’s part of the game.”

“I hurt him,” Felix murmured. “All of you.”

Seungmin seemed to realize that he wasn’t exactly talking about their spar. “Well, listen. Changbin wouldn’t have agreed to fight today if he was still in pain. He might complain a lot about it, but he’s here because he wants to be here; and he’s not going to hold it against you that you beat him and killed him in the process.”

“He has a stab wound in his shoulder,” Felix said. “That I gave him.”

Seungmin sighed, and sat on the second to last step of the stairs. After a minute, Felix joined him. “And you have a scar on your face that _we_ gave you. That fight didn’t leave any of us unscathed. You can’t let it hold you back anymore — other than, well, the obvious ones, none of us really want to think about it.”

“Just because you don’t want to think about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Felix said. “It’s all still there. _I_ think about it. Not that I want to, but — I do.”

Seungmin closed his eyes and leaned back as much as he could. His elbows rested on the landing, and there was tension in all the lines of his body, from all the pain Felix had caused him.

“It’s impossible to ignore the past,” Felix continued. “It’ll come back eventually. Always.”

“Speaking from experience?” Seungmin didn’t say it in a way that wanted an answer, and he sighed as he slowly relaxed into a slump. “For now, we can ignore it. Just let it fall to the wayside and focus on what you’re doing here. I mean, you definitely should talk to someone about all the fucked-up things that have ever happened to you, but maybe right now isn’t the best time to drag it all up.”

Felix made a small noise of agreement, and they sat there in the dimly lit stairwell in silence. The faint sounds of Changbin over the intercoms and the fight below reached them — it was an in-between, separate from the action below and the calm room above, but still faintly listening in.

_That kills Jeongin,_ Changbin said through the walls. _I can’t believe you’d murder the baby just like that. Cold-blooded, Minho-hyung._

“Are the weapons next round real?” Felix asked.

“God, no. Do you really think we’re going to stab you? Don’t answer that,” Seungmin said. “No. We do practice on dummies with real weapons, but we’re all tired and unused to training too much right now so I think Chan will let us go after this.”

Felix made a small noise of agreement, and through the wall, heard Changbin say _And despite their losses, Jisung and Jeongin win again. That’s best out of two, congrats on finishing early, although I’m very jealous. Chan-hyung, are you going soft?_

Felix and Seungmin rose to their feet as the others came to get them. They passed the other group on the stairs, and Changbin brought Felix to a series of lockers on the far wall underneath the control room that held a variety of fake weapons. Seungmin and Hyunjin quickly chose their own — a small handgun that fired paint pellets for Seungmin, and a set of padded brass knuckles for Hyunjin. Felix wasn’t entirely sure what those would do against a gun, but he chose a pair of small, blunted knives in the hopes of balancing it out as Changbin decided to forego anything. None of these weapons would really hurt them in the long run, but they would still at least genuinely stun them.

They split up to their separate sides, and Felix told Hyunjin, “Don’t throw me at them this time, alright?” Hyunjin blew him off, predictably. “I’m serious,” Felix said. “We got lucky last time, but we’re going to have to actually work together and come up with a plan if we’re going to win.”

“I don’t need to work with you,” Hyunjin said, turning sharply to face Felix. As always, he loomed, and Felix resisted the urge to step back. “I don’t _want_ to work with you. I want to win these games as soon as possible so that I don’t have to see your stupid face any longer than I have to. Just stay out of my way — Seungmin and Changbin-hyung _want_ to fight you, why I have no idea, so just keep them busy while I get the flag and get back to home base.”

Felix fought back an angry return and searched for the right words to say. There was an urgency thrumming through him, a need to win even though this competition was pointless and inane, and all the flaws in Hyunjin’s plan screamed in his mind. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Chan’s voice crackled through the arena.

_“Are you all ready?”_

Hyunjin threw a thumbs-up in a random direction; Felix assumed there was a camera there, but it was equally likely that Hyunjin just took the opportunity to look away from Felix.

_“Alright, you have ten minutes again. Don’t actually murder each other, please.”_

Hyunjin slipped his brass knuckles on and clenched his fists; Felix tightened his grip around his knives and kept his eyes on Hyunjin.

“Tell me you have a plan,” Felix whispered.

“I have _told you_ my plan,” Hyunjin hissed back.

“That’s not a plan, that’s a _hope_ that the others will act the way you think they will — Hyunjin, we need to work together, _please_ — ”

“I will _never_ work with you,” Hyunjin screamed behind his teeth. He gripped the collar of Felix’s shirt and growled into his face. “Never. You may have fooled the others into being your friend — into trusting you — but I will _never, never_ trust you to have my back. Do whatever you want here. Hopefully this will be the last time Chan-hyung actually makes us even look at each other.”

“Chan…?” Changbin’s voice drifted over the wall.

_“Wh — sorry. Yeah, um. Let’s go. Fight. Go.”_

“Right now?” Changbin called.

_“Yeah. Sorry, I got distracted.”_

Hyunjin sighed in irritation as he bounded forward. Felix shook off their conversation, straightened his shirt, and followed him. He had no desire to stand around their flag all alone.

It seems as if Seungmin and Changbin had changed their own strategy, however. Just as Felix and Hyunjin reached the midway point and began to veer towards their openings, Seungmin and Changbin burst through the right one and sprinted right towards Felix.

Felix skidded to a halt and brought out his knives, holding them tight by his sides. Seungmin ran towards him, and Felix lost track of anything else happening, focused entirely on staying close enough to avoid the handgun but far enough away that Seungmin couldn’t crash into him. He’d been tackled once already today and that was enough for him.

He remembered what Seungmin had goaded him into last time, and kept his strikes light so he wouldn’t actually hurt the other. Seungmin kept one hand behind his back to hold his gun away, and danced around Felix’s fists with a small, irritating grin on his face.

With growing frustration, Felix flicked his knife across Seungmin’s chest. He only caught the loose fabric of his shirt as Seungmin jumped away, and Felix crashed into him, shoving his shoulder into his chest and knocking him off-balance. He barely managed to graze Seungmin with his knife as Seungmin fell to the floor, and the other scrambled to his feet and backed off even further.

“Dammit, you’re not taking this seriously again!” Felix said. He was frustrated at their reversed roles; the hypocrisy of goading him into fighting only to dodge around his every attack needled at him. “Come on, Seungmin, you said you wanted to fight me, but you’re just dancing around the real thing.”

“Alright,” Seungmin said, his small smirk growing wider on his face. “Fine. Let’s up the stakes, then; as you _want.”_

He raised his handgun, aimed it over Felix’s shoulder, and fired.

The paint pellet soared past him. It didn’t even come close.

“You missed,” Felix said in total disbelief. “How could you _miss?”_

Seungmin only smiled at him.

_“That kills Hyunjin,”_ Chan’s voice announced.

Felix felt the floor twist underneath his feet. His hand shook slightly around the handles of his knives, but he tightened his grip on them, determined to ignore how badly that had shaken him.

“I almost never miss,” Seungmin told him. “Not that I always hit, but don’t think I wouldn’t shoot you if I wanted to.”

Felix looked at Seungmin as his disbelief faded into shocked anger. With a snarl, he whipped around to see Changbin shove away from Hyunjin’s frozen frame and sprint towards the orange flag in their unguarded base.

He only made it two steps in Changbin’s direction before Seungmin leapt onto him and held his arms tight to his sides in a mockery of a hug. With a pained noise at the unnecessary tight squeeze, Felix slammed his foot into Seungmin’s knee and threw his head back into his chin, managing to wiggle his way out and even drive his blunted knife into Seungmin’s side in his attempt to escape.

_“Did that kill Seungmin?”_ Chan asked as Felix fell to the floor and paused to catch his breath. _“I think I saw Yongbok stab him. Seungmin, be honest, did that kill you?”_

Seungmin closed his eyes and sank down to sit on the floor. He aimed a thumbs-up at some hidden camera, and laid down fully, sucking in a deep breath. “That knife is going to leave a bruise.”

_“Alright, so that kills Seungmin,”_ Chan said. _“You have six minutes left.”_

Felix brought himself up to his feet and stared at Hyunjin, who had sat down on the spot where he had been killed in something that looked like shock. He was torn — Changbin was quickly untying their flag from its stake, and he wanted to stop him, but he had the urge to yell at Hyunjin for being an idiot.

The yelling won out, and Felix stormed over to stand in front of him. “Are you serious? This is what happens when you refuse to work with your partner!”

“I — ”

“I don’t care how much you hate me! You have every right to hate my fucking _guts,”_ Felix cried. “But put that aside! It doesn’t matter! You can hate me as much as you want when this is over, but right now, you have to _trust me!_ The others aren’t going to care how much you despise working with me — they don’t care about doing what you expect them to do, they don’t _care_ about how you won’t listen to me or even speak to me! Just work with me, alright?”

“Yongbok — ”

“I am _trying,”_ Felix continued. “I am trying so hard to do the _right thing for once in my life!_ You just — you need to trust that I’m working on your side. Beyond this stupid fight! Trust me, I’m trying my best to understand you, to believe in what you believe — I don’t care how much you hate me, but you have got to _trust me.”_

Hyunjin was silent, staring up at Felix in shock. “I… for — for now. Just until today is over.”

Felix let out a relieved breath, trying hard not to deflate too much. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Hyunjin said. “But this is temporary. I can’t trust you just like that. You know that.”

“I know,” Felix said.

“Okay, well.” Hyunjin’s eyes drifted away to the empty stake where their ugly orange flag should have been. “Changbin took our flag.”

Felix sighed and crossed his arms, turning to look as Changbin disappeared behind the separating wall. He only had to wait a couple moments for Chan’s announcement. _“And that’s a win for Changbin and Seungmin, congratulations you two. One to one, guys, let’s go for a tiebreaker after a water break, alright?”_

Hyunjin and Felix gave uninspired thumbs-up. Maybe none of them knew where the cameras were and just gave their okays to any random direction.

“I still don’t like you.” Hyunjin squeezed his side and winced; Felix assumed he had been hit there, but didn’t care beyond that. “After this, I never want to talk to you again.”

“So you’ve said,” Felix muttered. He accepted the water bottle Seungmin drifted over with, and they all shut up for the next five minutes, marveling over their new scrapes and bruises. Felix had bruises on his knees, and a big one on his side from where Changbin had kicked him the first round, but his injuries were minimal. Especially compared to the others. Seungmin showed off the spot on his side where Felix had dug in his blunted knife, and the three of them cringed accordingly. There was an indent and everything.

_“Are you ready?”_ Chan asked, suddenly enough to make them all jump. _“If you get this done quickly, we’ll all be able to go back upstairs and collapse. Jisung and Jeongin are basically already passed out on the couch.”_

With more than a little grumbling, the four of them picked themselves back up and set about tying their flags to their stakes again. Hyunjin finally, begrudgingly scraped together something resembling a plan with Felix — they determined that Seungmin and Changbin would try to attack them again, since it had worked so well for them last time, and decided that they would do their best to defend their flag.

_“Ready, go,”_ Chan announced. Felix gripped his knives tightly, and felt his pulse as they stood still and waited.

He caught a small movement out of the corner of his eye — a small, dark bump just barely jutting out from behind the wall — a knee, the corner of a t-shirt, it didn’t matter. “There,” he whispered to Hyunjin. “Nothing on the other side, but don’t let your guard down.”

Hyunjin just hummed in response. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait much longer; Felix took a small step forward, and Changbin burst out from behind the wall, intent on barreling into the two of them.

Felix ran forward to meet him, signaling at Hyunjin to stay behind and protect the flag. With a violent growl, Changbin crashed into Felix, sending his shoulder right into Felix’s sensitive stomach, and the two of them began to fight.

Felix didn’t bother trying to protect his stomach, even though it was certainly very bruised by now; Changbin never kicked, and it was easy enough to dodge or redirect the punches he threw.

But Felix just couldn’t get close enough with his knives to kill him — he would always jump back, trying to bring Felix further away from the flag. Most of the time Felix stayed where he was and waited for Changbin to come closer, but he did follow the bait often enough for Changbin to think that his plan was working.

There came another hint of movement from the far side of the wall, and Felix shouted to Hyunjin, “There! Go!”

He paid no attention to whether or not Hyunjin went, focusing more on driving Changbin closer to their own opening in the wall. He wanted to kill Changbin on the other side of the wall while Seungmin was occupied; he’d have time to untie the flag and bring it back to their home base if everything went as planned.

Changbin looked over Felix’s shoulder and cringed — hopefully that meant good things for Felix, but he didn’t want to risk checking. The sounds of a fight filtered over to them, and Felix assumed that Hyunjin was holding his ground enough to worry Changbin. He took the opportunity to stab Changbin and hopefully kill him — but he never made it.

Suddenly, Changbin twisted his arm around Felix’s outstretched one and wrenched it unnaturally. With a small cry, Felix dropped his knife and buckled under the pain lancing through his entire right side. He dropped to one knee and clutched at his shoulder.

“Did you just feint?” Felix gasped, incredulous.

Changbin huffed a small, embarrassed laugh. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t think you could do that,” Felix said. “I mean, it requires a lot of brain power. Are you sure you can handle it?”

Maybe that was a little mean, but Felix had been goaded a lot today, and he thought Changbin could at least tolerate getting teased a little back. Apparently not, though, as Changbin’s face twitched with irritation, and he twisted Felix’s arm further.

With a bitten-back curse, Felix gripped Changbin’s arm as tight as he could, and yanked it at the same moment he pushed his foot into Changbin’s own. It unbalanced him and sent him toppling to their floor — and made him drop his grasp on Felix’s arm, thank god.

Felix scrambled away and reached for his knife, but before he could even touch his fingers to the handle, Changbin seized his ankle and tugged him back. It wasn’t as if Felix was, well, stocky, or very heavy — he was tiny at the very best of times, after all — but it still stung at him how easily and quickly he was yanked back. The shock of being pulled back so suddenly let Changbin throw him into the dividing wall — Felix brought his arms up to protect his head as best he could, but the breath was knocked out of him as he hit the wall _hard._

It took him a moment to be able to push himself to his feet; and luckily Changbin waited for him to regain his bearings. Felix shook his head once, and readied himself to go again, shaking his hands and blinking furiously as he tried to push past the ache in his chest and head.

Suddenly, with a noise of tremendous effort and a choked scream, something large and heavy slammed into Changbin, knocking him to the floor.

Felix blinked at the pile on the floor, then turned to look at Hyunjin with wide eyes. “Did you just… _throw Seungmin?”_

Hyunjin looked just as surprised. “I — I did?”

The other two were groaning on the floor. Felix waited for a moment to see if Chan would announce their deaths, and when it didn’t come, told Hyunjin, “Go get their flag. I can handle them.”

“You were just thrown into a _wall,”_ Hyunjin protested.

“Do you seriously care about that? _Go,_ Hyunjin, while they’re distracted!”

“I don’t — ”

“I’ve got this!”

“I can’t just leave our flag behind!” Hyunjin cried.

“Hyunjin, you’ve _got to trust me!”_ Felix yelled. “Just _go!”_

With one last wide eyed look, Hyunjin turned on his heel and ran towards the dividing wall. Felix spared him enough attention to make sure he made it past without any trouble, and at once returned his focus on Seungmin and Changbin.

The two of them were checking up on each other, but Felix didn’t give them any more time to recover. He kicked Seungmin in the back of the knee and knocked him into Changbin, and as the two of them untangled themselves, he flicked his knife around to grip it properly, and stabbed Seungmin in the back.

_“That kills Seungmin, again,”_ Chan announced. With a small groan, Seungmin rolled away from the fight, clutching his knee but pouting enough that Felix knew he hadn’t been actually hurt.

Felix focused all of his attention on Changbin. With a snarl, he kicked him in the side, and as Hyunjin untied the flag, Felix kept up the flurry of attacks without letting Changbin breathe for even a second.

It was almost quiet in his mind. In a distant sort of way, he thought about how he had stabbed Changbin all those weeks ago, how different this fight was from that. There were some slight similarities — his knives, for one, and the familiar ache of forming bruises — but the entire feel of this was so different. He had been alone back then, his entire squad decimated and abandoned. Now he had at least one person to rely on, one person on his team; and in some strange kind of way, Changbin was on his side too. Even if he had killed him two rounds ago, with a bruise that was blooming red and swollen on his jaw, and even if Felix still ached from being thrown into a wall… Changbin’s support ran deeper, was more substantial than this pointless exercise. He was on Felix’s team despite this fight, and would be on Felix’s team after it, no matter what happened.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that Changbin was there for him. Even as he aimed a fist at his chest, Felix looked upon him with appreciation. Maybe they were something close to friends.

_“Hyunjin and Felix win this round!”_ Chan announced. Felix froze with his foot halfway towards Changbin’s knee, and he relaxed as the pride slowly sank in. _“Congratulations, you two. Now let’s get out of here before we all pass out in this smelly room.”_

* * *

The eight of them were silent as the elevator brought them up to the top floor. Felix focused hard on keeping himself standing straight and tall, and he could tell that the others were working hard doing the same thing.

Chan sighed. “That was a lot of work today.”

All of them groaned. “Fucking _tell_ me about it,” Minho said, his voice a tired whine. “Never make us do that again or I’ll kill you for real.”

“Well, I was thinking we could do something like this once or twice a week.”

With the loudest complaint yet, they all crumpled at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, didn't i just thank you guys for 2k last update?? i'm blown away. expect something for 3k by next update, or the one after it — ahh i'm so thankful for all of you guys <3 <3 <3
> 
> i'm back with this chapter!! it kicked my butt a little bit (it's 9.5k words omg), and is mostly unedited. please enjoy!! updates should be back on track from now on. thank you so much for reading!!!


	10. Goodbye, Everybody, I’ve Got To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2LTL8KgKv8) / [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1QbQL5m30YNvukitIqAnFG)

_“I am a reaper. (Eoho!) All my oats are cradled. But I am too fatigued_

_to bind them. And I hunger. I crack a grain. It has no taste to_

_it. My throat is dry . . .”_

“There’s something I’m curious about,” Jisung said to the room at large. They had assembled in the living room after dinner, as they did most days, and were either ignoring a re-run of _Where Are They Now_ (this episode focusing on Miley Cyrus and her father) or absorbed in a book. Felix was, technically, watching Miley walk her dogs in the streets of some California city with a voice-over talking about how she had adopted it from a shelter — it was a small little thing, like most celebrity dogs, with sad little eyes and floppy ears — but his mind was miles away.

“Hm,” Chan asked from where he sat on a high-backed chair in the corner of the room. He wasn’t exactly paying attention, preferring to focus on a book he’d pulled off of the shelf instead. Everyone was half-dead from a day spent training downstairs again, which was why they were watching _Where Are They Now_ instead of doing something enjoyable, but Chan was too nice for his own good and enjoyed encouraging his underlings.

“Like, in a hypothetical situation, how could you stand to work for an organization that does all of these terrible things, and that you _know_ does all of these terrible things, because you’re doing them yourself, like, it’s impossible to _not know_ — ”

Felix pressed his lips into a thin line and sank deeper into the couch. He kept his eyes glued onto Miley’s grinning face. She had chopped her hair into a mullet with a blunt fringe, and dyed it a striking light blonde; pretty unconventional, just barely clinging to the edges of what was standard and acceptable, but as the interviewer cracked a joke about her looking somewhat like her dog, she laughed good-naturedly and held the puppy up, saying, _“I do, don’t I?”_

“Jisung,” Chan said, his voice a warning. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m just _asking,”_ Jisung protested. “It’s a hypothetical.”

“Oh, like hell,” Changbin said. “If you have a problem, let it out before your tiny head explodes.”

Felix could see Jisung stick his tongue out; in the dark areas of the television screen, there were spots and pieces of the room’s reflection. “Seriously, how could you stand to work for an organization that’s sucked all the art from the world? It’s soulless, man.”

Felix’s face scrunched up. “What are you talking about? Art still exists.”

All seven of the people in the room focused their undivided attention to Felix.

“Actually, I change my mind. What the fuck are you talking about,” Changbin said. Chan closed his book, and Jeongin lowered the volume of the television until it was just a small whisper in the background of their conversation.

“Oh, I cannot wait to hear _this,”_ Jisung said, leaning back into his chair and rubbing his hands together.

“If I explain, will you actually listen?” Felix asked. He didn’t expect much, really.

“Oh yes, _absolutely,”_ Jisung replied.

Minho threw, appropriately, a throw pillow at him. “Don’t be facetious.”

“I’m not!” Jisung said. “Seriously, I want to hear this. What the hell, man?”

“Alright,” Felix said. “Go get your shampoo bottle.”

_“What?”_

“I’m serious,” Felix said. He raised his eyebrows at Jisung’s incredulous look. “I’ll explain when you give me your shampoo bottle.”

Without saying another word, Jisung stood up and walked out of the room. The six other people in the room didn’t say much, just expressed their disbelief in small murmurs. Jeongin asked him what he was thinking, but Felix kept his thoughts to himself.

Jisung returned after a minute and handed Felix a bottle of shampoo. “I cannot wait to see where you go with this.”

Felix inspected it as he stood up and wandered over to a place where he could see everyone in the room. The bottle was a rounded, rectangular shape, a little shorter than his forearm, colored a bright orange with a black cap on the top. It had a large label on the front, proclaiming its natural ingredients and zero parabens. Apparently it was supposed to help with hair volume, and smelled like grapefruit and some special type of mint.

The text was sectioned off into neat little squares of information, with pastel borders and an easy to read font. There were small watercolor drawings poking out from behind the boxes of text. Whole and sliced grapefruits, and little pieces of bright green mint presented on a colorful splash of water; he’d place the art at the fourth degree of stylization, but he wasn’t an expert. It was a very nice bottle, and because of that it was perfect for the point he was about to make.

“Alright, so.” Everyone’s eyes were already on him, so Felix put one hand underneath the bottle, one hand on top, and presented it to the room. “This is a work of art.”

“I know I said it already, but it bears repeating,” Changbin said. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about.”

“Before the Districts started gaining power, there were a lot of discussions about what was actually allowed to be art,” Felix began. “Those discussions had been going on for decades, even centuries; I took a lot of art history lessons, believe it or not. There were a lot of opinions, but in the end I suppose the Districts’ was the most important. Paintings, sketches, sculptures… and in a different way, literature, poems, plays; these are all widely recognized as art, right. We all agree that they have an inherent artistic value that elicits emotion in an — well, in a way that the Districts deemed unnatural.”

“But it’s not unnatural,” Seungmin said. “I mean, I don’t think we would actually get emotional over things that we didn’t feel a deep connection to. You can’t just forge a fake bond with a piece of art.”

“Sure,” Felix said. “That’s just what the Districts think, and it’s important because it’s what they want everyone else to think. At least until the memory of art fades from humanity.”

“That is literally so depressing,” Minho said. “The memory of art… Oh, I’m going to get angry.”

“Please don’t get mad, I actually want to hear this,” Jeongin said.

“You want to hear this bullshit?” Hyunjin muttered from where he and Jisung were squished into the two-person seater once more. It was kind of their spot, he realized, as he began to understand the habits and patterns of the others.

“Know your enemy, or whatever.”

“Anyway,” Felix said, loudly enough to silence the rising clamor. “Listen. Anything that does not come from nature is designed. Right? And anything that is designed has the potential to be art.”

“But that doesn’t mean that _everything_ is art,” Hyunjin said. “I mean, trash cans weren’t, I don’t know, gifted to us by the gods above or whatever, but that doesn’t mean we should display them in the Louvre, or even the MoMA.”

“Of course there’s nuance,” Felix said. “And nowadays, nuance, in the case of art, is carefully balanced and controlled by trained professionals. I’ll get into that in a minute, but let me explain what I mean by calling this, specifically, art.” He presented the shampoo bottle once more, for emphasis. “In the case of this bottle, someone had to think about the shape of this bottle, the color of this bottle, what scent would be in this bottle, and everything that goes into both labels on this bottle, front and back. Someone drew these grapefruits, and these mint leaves. Someone carefully photographed and edited the splash of water they’re resting on. Someone decided what words to put on this label. Someone decided how these words would be laid out on the label. Someone designed the shape of each letter on this label. Someone made the logo of the company that created this bottle. None of these things happened by chance; nothing about this bottle was just given to the company that made it, or placed carefully within your shower. Do you get it?”

“It’s literally a shampoo bottle, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not that deep.”

“No, he has a point,” Minho said thoughtfully.

“Again, it’s a _shampoo bottle.”_

“Yeah, a shampoo bottle that several artists and designers spent time and effort making. Just because we don’t think about it every time we look at it doesn’t mean it’s not art. I mean, if we had the Mona Lisa up in our bathrooms, we’d barely notice it,” Chan said.

“But there’s no emotional impact,” Jisung protested.

“Sure there is,” Changbin said. “I mean, you noticed it, didn’t you? And you liked it better than the other shampoos the store had to offer.”

“But — ”

“Oh my god, Jisung, take the L,” Minho said with a whine.

“He’s right, sort of,” Felix said. “The emotional impact of the design of the shampoo bottle is very low. It’s meant to be eye-catching and appealing, but nothing more. There was a lot of work put into it to make it that way, but in the end, it really is just a shampoo bottle.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the art’s side of the argument?” Seungmin asked.

“Not to be a contrarian, but — ” Jisung began. He was quickly shouted down by everyone else in the room, including Hyunjin, who smothered him with a pillow.

“There’s a reason that’s the way it is, you know,” Felix continued, deciding to ignore their antics. He liked to think that he did so with grace. “As I mentioned before, the nuances of art nowadays are heavily controlled and balanced by the Board of Artistic Development. They’ve devised a system to regulate artistry and stylization — do you have a whiteboard?”

Chan blinked. “What?”

“Usually I explain this with a whiteboard.”

With some grumbling and sour looks, Chan and Changbin went to fetch a whiteboard from a different level. Felix took a small break to make sure he remembered everything right, and to grab a glass of water.

He used to help teach a class on functional and historic creativity, but his teaching career was ultimately very short-lived (but really nice, in his opinion), as the Districts decided that his skills were very much being wasted in a university setting. Felix still retained most of the knowledge he had helped teach, though. It was useful every now and again.

Chan came back, hands and clothes covered in dust and grime, holding a whiteboard and two markers. He presented them to Felix with a poorly restrained scowl on his face. “I swear, this had better be worth it.”

Felix propped the whiteboard in front of the television, which was still softly playing _Where Are They Now,_ and scribbled out a couple quick t-charts. On one, he wrote _Degrees of Stylization,_ and on the other, _Degrees of Artistic Intent._

“Alright, so. The Board of Artistic Development puts most art created nowadays through two different tests — they’re graded on their degrees of stylization, and on the artist’s intent for making the piece.”

Degrees of Stylization

  1. just shapes and circles
  2. basic cartoonish elements
  3. impressionist style art
  4. recognizable as art but references real life and copies it nearly to the point of photorealism
  5. indistinguishable from real life; hyperrealistic 



“I’m not an expert, and there are official guidelines to each degree, but this is pretty much it,” Felix said. “Are there any questions so far?”

Jeongin raised his hand. “Why are shapes and colors a different degree to basic cartoonish elements? What about complex cartoonish elements, like DC comics?”

“Well, if you draw an orange circle, that’s the first degree. If you add a stem, some dots, and some shading to make it look more like an orange, that’s the second degree. Graphic novels and comic books usually vary between the second and third degree; it depends on the artist. Sometimes they’re recognized as the fourth degree, but it rarely happens.”

“I have a question,” Hyunjin said. “If you took the labels off of Jisung’s shampoo bottle, and took the shampoo bottle out, what would it fall under?”

Felix hummed in thought. “Probably the first degree, but there is another element to that specific example… if you guys don’t have any other questions, it’s the next thing I have to explain.”

“Please,” Chan said, gesturing at the board.

“Right.” Felix uncapped his marker and quickly filled out the other t-chart.

Degrees of Artistic Intent

  1. to create something with no further intent
  2. to send a subtle message
  3. to send an intentional message, or to make something unnecessary look nice
  4. to make something necessary more appealing
  5. functrivity



“So these are the degrees of artistic intent,” Felix said. “So, Hyunjin, if we just had an empty, label-less shampoo bottle, that would be in the fifth or fourth degree.”

“What the fuck is… I’m not even going to try to pronounce that,” Changbin said, squinting at the board. “Punkeu… nope. No.”

“Functrivity,” Felix said.

“Say that again.”

“Functrivity.”

Changbin threw a pillow at him. Felix let it hit him and watched it fall to the ground with a soft thump.

“Mate, even I can’t say that,” Chan said in English.

“It’s not that hard,” Felix said. _“Functrivity._ Try it.”

“If I say that word, things are going to start floating,” Minho muttered.

“Okay, but what is it?” Jeongin asked. “I’ve never heard that in my _life._ I don’t like it and I don’t trust it. It feels like… the worst word that’s ever been created.”

“It’s a portmanteau with _functional_ and _creativity,”_ Felix said. “It’s everything that — here.”

Underneath the t-chart, he wrote _Functrivity_ in large letters and wrote out the definition. “I’m really giving you a crash course; this is a really complex system that a lot of people spend a lot of time studying, you know.”

Functrivity

*everything that does not come from nature that is necessary for the function of our everyday life*

“I used to teach a course on all of this that took twelve _weeks_ to complete.”

“You’re like, five,” Seungmin. “When did you have time to teach a _class?”_

“It wasn’t exactly the highlight of my career.”

Jeongin raised his hand. “I still don’t understand. What exactly is… it?”

Felix waved his hand around the room. “All of this.” Seeing everyone’s blank looks, he explained further. “How to explain…? This room, and everything in it, and everything around it — I could go really far into it, but let me get back to that in a moment. Everything is thought out by someone — born from an act of creativity. Of course, as a general rule the Districts discourage all acts of creativity. But they recognize that there are some forms of art that are necessary for people to live with comfort.”

“There are so many holes in the Districts’ ideology,” Minho grumbled. “They can’t even stand by their first objective. What hypocrites.”

“Oh, sure,” Felix said. “If you look hard enough, there’s quite a few exceptions to the rules. The United Nations had a program to protect cultural practices that were in danger of extinction, and they still argue a lot with the Board of Artistic Development to add new practices to the list. I think Persian rugs were added to the list recently; it’s a rare practice in Iran nowadays, but it has a lot of cultural and historic significance. The Board added another qualifier to the different degrees a few years back, and when the occasion arises, UNESCO is called upon to judge.”

In between the t-charts of the degrees, he squeezed in the question, _Cultural/Historic Significance?_ Under that, he wrote _Y/N,_ and under that, wrote _3 pts._ and _0 pts.,_ respectively.

“What’s with the points?” Seungmin asked.

“There’s a grading system,” Felix said. “I’ll talk about it in a moment, but for now let’s get back on topic. So, there are some forms of creativity that the Districts have to acknowledge. Usually when I talk about this I’ll ask the class to give any examples they can think of, but…”

“This isn’t exactly your regular classroom, huh,” Chan said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Far from it. I cannot impress upon you guys enough how much creativity surrounds you. Right now, at this moment, there are layers upon layers of it all around us. We’re in a room, a library or living room that’s filled with books and furniture and humans; and we’re in a flat that’s inside of a larger building, and a building that’s part of a larger district, and a district that’s part of an enormous city — I mean, there are almost ten _million_ people in Seoul. That’s astonishing. It takes so much effort to make sure the ten million people that live here are safe and organized and not crowded on top of each other. I can’t believe we actually found each other… but, anyway. Ten million people don’t just organize themselves; they need city planners, and architects, and environmental developers, and everyone who made the goddamn public transportation system.

“This building was given to you by some benefactor, I know. But people still built it, designed it, lent their creative efforts to making it a comfortable home and base of operation for you guys. People still made your instruments, and your books, and your furniture. The clothes you wear. Your makeup, your jewelry… your shampoo bottles.” More than one of them laughed softly at that. “Like I said before, nothing here was just given to humanity by the grace of the gods. That’s not how the world works. And the Districts hate it with a burning passion, but they just have to accept it.”

Functrivity

*everything that does not come from nature that is necessary for the function of our everyday life*

informative (textbooks, photojournalism, documentaries, product design/decoration), adjacent to technology/science (prototypes, graphs of plants/anatomy), religious (iconography, places of worship), large-scale (architecture, city planning, environmental design, green living spaces, public transportation), micro-level q.o.l. (textiles, furniture, tv shows)

“That is stupid complicated,” Seungmin said. “You really have to think about all this?”

“Unfortunately,” Felix said, grumbling just a little bit.

Jeongin raised his hand again. “You mention religious buildings, so… like, churches?”

“Like, Westminster Abbey? Notre Dame? Sagrada Familia?” Hyunjin asked. “Sagrada Familia’s still being built, or at least it was last time I checked, unless they just stopped and left the thing uncompleted.”

“It varies from church to church,” Felix said. “It depends mostly on when they were built. I’m not sure if Sagrada Familia is still being built, actually. It might be, if the Catholic Church and maybe the city of Barcelona is putting enough pressure for it to be finished. For the other ones… I’m not sure when either one was built, but I’m pretty sure they’re still standing, even if they’ve been covered.”

_“Covered?”_ Hyunjin cried. “So they’re just sitting there in the middle of their cities, and they’re _covered?”_

“Ten out of ten would sneak in to check it out,” Jisung said quietly.

“Laymen can enter on specific holy days,” Felix explained. “Christmas, Easter, the like. Clergymen can go in more often. You have to go through a lot of sensitivity training before you’re allowed, though, much like if someone aimed to study the humanities in university.”

“What do you mean, university?” Changbin asked.

“Listen. The Districts are very strong, and very capable. But if you try to take books away from scholars, they are going to rip your head off with their bare hands. We let them study their manuscripts, and they let us live, and everybody’s happy.” A few of them laughed at that, and Felix took a small break to drink some water.

“I’m curious about what you meant when you said the time period when churches were built is important,” Chan said. He’d been largely silent during this; Felix assumed he probably knew most of what he was explaining. Now, however, he leaned forward in his chair slightly and fixed his gaze on the whiteboard. “Why should it matter?”

“Good question,” Felix said, to which Chan preened slightly. “We can divide art up in large sections of time, right, as we do with history. From ancient times, to the renaissance, to modernism and post-modernism and all the smaller movements that were more recent. The older a piece is, the more likely we are to treat it with respect. We’re not getting rid of all the ruins in Rome and Athens; not even the Districts are stupid enough to try to destroy something that’s been around for so long. Here, let me see if I can write it down.”

Historical Significance

ancient (4000 bc - 400 ad): sites are accessible to historians and scholars; writing/art is given to universities/museums to store, or covered if too delicate to move

medieval (500 - 1400): sites are covered; writing/art is stored

renaissance (1400 - 1600): sites are covered if of immense significance, or otherwise torn down and rebuilt; writing/art is given to universities to be stored

neoclassicism–modernism (1600 - 1850): sites have their façades torn down and rebuilt, and are otherwise used as intended; writing/art is stored

contemporary (1900 - present): sites have façades torn down and rebuilt, used as intended

“This is a vast oversimplification, but that’s pretty much the differences,” Felix said. “And, yes, I know that it’s pretty eurocentric, and different places have different eras of art history, but the Districts took care to make the time periods broad enough to vaguely fit periods of art from around the world.”

“Writing and art are stored? What does that mean?” Jeongin asked. “And what happened in the contemporary era?”

“There’s, like, fifty years missing,” Hyunjin pointed out.

“Well… you’re not going to like what I have to say,” Felix said, grimacing. “Really old books are given to universities for them to hold on to, but a lot of art from the twentieth century has been destroyed. Anything that was created earlier than 1850, like books and paintings and the like, are of pretty low value to the Districts. People have to fight for each piece if they want to save it. Sometimes they get away with it, other times they don’t.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

Finally, Jisung spoke. “That’s… genuinely horrible.”

“We thought something like that was probably happening,” Chan said. “But it still hurts to know it’s true.”

Strangely enough, Felix thought he understood. He had been to burning facilities, and had seen a good amount of art be destroyed — they took no pleasure in burning books, but somewhere in the back of everyone’s mind there was the idea that this wasn’t really right. Felix had been nine the first time he had gone to a burning facility, and even then he could sense that hesitance. Employee turnover in places like those were very high.

It hadn’t exactly been a formative memory, but since they were talking about it, Felix thought about that first visit. They had furnaces burning every hour of every day, and there were endless piles of books waiting to be devoured; hardbacks, and paperbacks, and even comics. He stared at them and wondered, but his handlers never let him or any of the others get too close to the piles — they were young, after all, and the Districts were taking great care to make sure they had no chance to be corrupted.

But they had gotten an oil painting — or maybe more than one — from a private collector in Sydney, and they wanted to show Felix and the other kids in that program something cool, so they brought them out before their handlers could say anything about it. Of course they were interested in the paintings; it was the first time any of them had seen anything quite like it. Felix remembered a portrait of a fine lady dressed in blue, her face pale as milk and her cheeks a blushing rose, with a dark background that almost made her glow. They were allowed to touch it — why not, the paintings were going into the fire anyway — and Felix remembered it being very smooth and very delicate, almost flakey, and he had almost been surprised that the lady’s face had the same feeling as her dress, and as the darkness behind her.

Then, of course, the painting was cast into the fire. As it had to be.

Felix remembered being very upset, and remembered knowing that there was no way he could let anyone around him know exactly how devastated he was. There was no taking the portrait out of the fire. It was probably then that he finally understood permanence, and the idea that actions always had consequences. He made himself watch — it was what they wanted from him, of course, they wanted him to watch very closely and so he did.

Felix shook his head and dismissed the memory. It wasn’t important.

“Anyway, that’s pretty much where the scoring system comes into play,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention back from where they had been discussing how shitty the Districts were. “The Board of Artistic Development will apply it to pieces of art that come under their review; universities can get away with lower scores, but if something wants to remain in the public eye, it has to score pretty high. Of course, the system is a lot more complicated than what I have here, so I can’t really give a decent comparison; but imagine on a scale from one to twenty, you would need to score above a seventeen.”

At the bottom of the whiteboard, he wrote, _the higher the score, the more likely a project is to be approved by the B.A.D._ He stared at what he had written for a long, long moment.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered to himself.

Jisung also noticed it. _“Oh,”_ he began, “my _GOD_ _— !”_

The others slowly began to realize as well as Jisung broke down into annoyingly piercing laughter, and Felix didn’t even try to calm them down as they started to holler.

_“HOW,”_ Jisung continued through his choked laughter, “could you work with an organization that is _literally called BAD_ _— !”_

“I never realized,” Felix cried. He fell to his knees and covered his face in defeat, letting loose a helpless little laugh as the room descended into chaos. “Oh my god, how did I never _realize…”_

_“I want my shampoo bottle back, goddammit!”_

* * *

Hyunjin and Changbin had been gone for a couple hours and no one would tell Felix where they were. He almost thought it was an official mission, but he figured that the others would be at least more worried, if not more involved, if that were the case.

Eventually, the two of them came back, dripping sweat onto the floor. Minho rushed to scold them and usher them to their showers, and everyone else just carried on with their activities, paying no mind to Felix’s rapidly expanding confusion.

Changbin came back first, a satisfied little smile on his face, with his hair dripping wet. There was an empty seat next to Felix on the sofa, and he deposited himself there without a second thought.

“Where have you been?” Felix asked. “No one would tell me.”

Changbin had closed his eyes, but cracked one tired one to peek at Felix. “Seriously? It’s not some big secret or anything.”

“You guys do so many things just for the drama.”

“No kidding.” Changbin sighed, stretched with a groan, and repositioned himself to give his full attention to Felix. “Now I’m almost embarrassed to say; it’s not terrible or anything, but it does not live up to the hype.”

“Please just tell me,” Felix said, letting himself pout just the tiniest bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see more than one person in the room cringe; he didn’t realize they were listening in, but what did he expect, really.

“Well, Hyunjin and I, and Minho-hyung, actually met each other because we like to dance. That was before we got wrapped up in this, or maybe that’s the reason why we’re all here, I don’t know. We were all really excited to find out that this place has a legit dance studio, and we practice whenever we can.”

Felix sat up straight on the sofa and looked deep into Changbin’s eyes. _“You have a dance studio?”_

That was all it took. He was quickly ushered below ground to a room with a mirrored wall and a smooth, wooden floor by Changbin; the others just went along with it, even Hyunjin, who was just starting to dry his hair when they were literally walking out the door. The seven of them clustered around a sound system, fighting over what music they should play, and Felix just stood there, letting the place fall into him.

He had last stepped foot in a dance studio — a _real_ dance studio, not a repurposed one — when he was 12. Along with mixed martial arts with a focus on tae kwon do, Felix had been taught ballet when he was small. That had stopped when the mixed martial arts hadn’t; it was about then that the Districts rose to power anyway, and Felix’s real purpose was revealed. Despite the years between then and now, he was sure he could remember the moves that had been drilled into him so long ago.

“You know, I know how to dance,” Felix told them. Seven heads whipped around to him.

“What?” Minho asked, his voice incredulous. “You’ve never been told a story, but you know how to _dance?”_

“Sure,” Felix said. He kicked the ground slightly. “They taught me ballet when I was younger. It helps your body learn self-control.”

“Show us.”

It didn’t matter who had spoken; they all looked at him with the same hungry eyes. With a deep breath, Felix shed his jacket, leaving him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He stretched his arms above his head, then brought them in a gentle arc over his head, bending at the waist and sticking his right leg out as his left knee bent slightly, sweeping his arms out and making a small little hop and twirl. It was a neat little exercise, but it seemed to impress the seven of them, as they clapped and cheered at him.

“You know what this means,” Minho said, a dangerous glint in his eye.

“No,” Hyunjin said with put-upon horror, a small smirk giving him away. “Minho, you’ll destroy him.”

“Yes,” Minho said, equally dramatic. He stepped away from the sound system and towards Felix, spreading his arms as if presenting something, or asking for a hug. “Dance battle. You and me.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “But you said you didn’t want to fight me.”

They all laughed at that, Minho the loudest; Felix bit his lip and waited for someone to explain.

“It’s just for fun,” Chan finally said, noticing Felix’s lost face and deciding to take pity on him. “The two of you will dance against each other, and we’ll see which of you is better at it.”

“That sounds dumb,” Felix muttered. Chan laughed at that as well.

“Any music preferences?” Seungmin asked. He seemed to be in charge of the stereo now, the others leaning against the wall and watching Minho begin to stretch. Felix figured he must be the de facto dance battle referee, there to step in if they got too rough. “Felix, you get to choose, since you were challenged.”

“I don’t care,” Felix said, facing himself in the mirror as he began to stretch as well. “You know I don’t know very many songs.”

“Right,” Seungmin said, scrolling through his phone. “Minho?”

A very sudden thought occurred to Felix, sucking the air from his chest. “Wait,” he blurted out. “Hold on. Do you have Sunglasses at Night?”

Seungmin blinked long and hard at him. “Huh?”

“It’s a really old song, I don’t know from when,” Felix admitted. “It’s got — what’s the word? — synths, and it goes _Don’t flip the blade on a guy in shades, oh no…“_

“I’ll look it up,” Seungmin said with a sigh evident in his voice. “Synths sound pretty eighties, which means…” He scrolled through everyone’s phones, Chan’s especially, searching for the song. Felix took the time to fully stretch out.

“Found it,” Seungmin finally announced, the chosen MP3 player connecting to the stereo with a thick-sounding click. Felix immediately dropped from his stretch and snapped his gaze to Minho, who had done the same. Keeping eye contact, Felix kicked off his shoes and flexed his toes.

“I’m going first, since you don’t know what you’re doing,” Minho said. It was met with some awed noises and boos from the others, though Felix could tell it was entirely genuine. “Near the end of the song, we’ll dance together, if you can last that long.”

“That’s fine with me,” Felix said, brushing his arm out slightly as a gesture to go ahead. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Minho grinned and jerked his head at Seungmin. “Let’s go.”

The dangerous sound of the synth beat through the dance studio, quickly followed by Minho beginning to move. His chest bumped forward with every beat as his arms tightened around him in something similar to a hug, and Felix watched and waited as he slowly crept closer.

_“I wear my sunglasses at night,”_ the music sang, and Minho slid into a series of complicated moves, sharp and dangerous things even as his eyes bore into Felix’s. He was close — maybe a little too close — and brought his arms up in front of his face, looking at Felix through the small gap. _“So I can, so I can… watch you weave then breathe your storylines…”_

Minho stepped back and wove his arms around his head, only to bring them down by his sides in a quick movement. He backed away with small kicks for each step, as if he was shaking something from his feet, letting his body hang loose with the rhythm, and tilted his head back slightly with a challenging smirk. He was accompanied by several whoops from the others, and Felix crossed his arms, unsure where the triumph came from.

_“And I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can… keep track of visions in my eyes…!”_ Minho finally turned his back to him with a quick turn, and let his body curl over itself, curving strangely to one side, bringing his arm up across his chest until his hand was next to his face with crooked, gnarled fingers. He could only see the side of Minho’s face, but there was a ferocious look there, something like a snarl, and Felix felt his own face lift to match it.

_“While she’s deceiving me — it cuts my security, has she got control of me? I turn to her and say…”_ Minho backed off with a twitch of his lips that could have been a smile, and threw one hand off of the opposite corner, and then the other, in the small moments before the chorus came in.

_“Don’t switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no! Don’t masquerade with the guy in shades, oh no! I can’t believe it — ‘cause you got it made with the guy in shades, oh no…”_

Finally, Felix understood how this was a battle. They never touched, but Minho attacked him with each sharp line of his body, seemed to punch him with each intense look he paired with equally intense movements. Each chord from the guitar came with a snarl and a tightly controlled sweep of his arm or roll of his body or lunge, all of it coming together to show Felix that this was _dancing._ That this was a battle.

Minho came to a stop after the chorus with a vicious pull at his neck, his breathing heavy. The others were cheering him on, calling out his name and stamping their feet; but he had eyes only for Felix. He didn’t move, and said only, “Dance.”

There was a second of just music before the singing came back around. Unconsciously, Felix had tensed up as if he was about to find himself in an actual fight; but at the last moment, he remembered that it was just dance. Just dance. He’d never danced ballet to a song like this before. Even though he had plenty of routines memorized, and could probably apply them to this rhythm, something in Felix rose to the challenge of dancing without a plan.

_“I wear my sunglasses at night,”_ the song began once more, and Felix rose to his beginning position. He’d forgotten the names of pretty much everything he’d been taught, but he remembered fourth position, to lift his chin, to pretend as if this were effortless. That was the only start he needed. From there, it was easy.

_“So I can, so I can… forget my name while you collect your claim…”_

The power in ballet laid in self-control. Without pointe shoes, Felix had a hard time on his toes, though he was still able to inch forward while his arms were held iron-stiff in arcs reaching out. He bent backwards as he swerved around Minho, keeping his eyes locked onto the other as he swept his legs and arms out and curled into a gentle spin, hopping slightly back and raising his arms once more.

_“And… I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can — ! See the light that’s right before my eyes!”_ The song wailed out that last line, and Felix spun tightly with it, his leg bobbing up and down without thought. Minho backed away as Felix approached, and he ended the spin in a pose with barely two inches between their noses.

The lyrics reminded him of the last time he had thought of this song, all that time ago when he had first spotted Hwang Hyunjin. When he had worn his sunglasses in Mullae-dong as they tracked each other down in the dark night alleys. When they had been enemies.

Were they still?

This was a _battle,_ Felix realized once again. Maybe there would be no real winner or loser, but there were sides. He was on one and everyone else in the room was on another. Even if they had shown him this dance studio, given him the choice of song, trusted him with this fight — even if they had brought him into their fold — he was separate from them, as clearly as if a line had been drawn between them.

The song continued, even as Felix realized all of this in the time it took Minho to widen his eyes at the bold move. He leapt backwards, his movements suddenly sharp as a knife, and Felix danced as if he had nothing more to lose.

The pre-chorus came once more, and Felix knew he had barely any time left to make his attack before his turn would be over. What came after, he wasn’t sure; Minho had mentioned something about dancing together, but whether that came after the song or during, he didn’t know. As the singer belted out, _“While she’s deceiving me, she cuts my security — has she got control of me?,”_ Felix gathered himself once more, raising one leg and then the other, his respective arms following suit as he waited for the chorus to fall into place.

_“I turn to her and say,”_ the song cried, and Felix rushed back to the far wall, taking a full breath and positioning himself for the complicated attack he had planned.

_“Don’t switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no!”_

Jumps in Minho’s hip-hop had done were short; they were more about the strike and style of impact than he actual leap itself. When one jumped in ballet, the form and grace of movement was key, and the landings were to be as soft as possible. Felix had been praised by his instructors for his control over his leaps, the long seconds he could hold himself midair. Jumps in Minho’s style were short and to the point. Jumps in ballet were long, drawn-out affairs, and as Felix pushed himself into the air, he knew he wouldn’t land before the singer could get the length of his _“blade”_ completed.

_“Don’t masquerade with the guy in shades, oh no! I can’t believe it — don’t be afraid of the guy in shades, oh no! It can’t escape you, ‘cause you got it made with the guy in shades, oh no…!”_

To Felix, the series of long leaps and tightly controlled twirls were a frenzied attack; each motion stretching with the sharpness of knives, each soft pad of his feet hitting the floor a strike against his opponent. He finished his mess of an attack with a leg slid out behind him and an arm stretched out towards Minho, his fingertips barely brushing the material of his jacket, the side of his foot pressed against the cool floor. It was a gesture of supplication, a silent invitation, and though they both breathed heavily, Minho stepped forward, gladly accepting.

_“Oh no, I say… I wear my sunglasses at night…”_

They circled each other, Minho’s footsteps unapologetic, Felix shuffling on the tips of his toes with his arms held stiff at his sides. They both moved as if they were stalking each other, as if the other were prey spotted in tall grass. Felix did not forget that this was an attack.

_“I wear my sunglasses at night…”_

At the exact same moment, Felix flipped his leg up into a standing split, and Minho broke into a low slouch and body roll, raising his own foot only to stamp it down. So it began again, and their moves became quick and ferocious, Felix arching his back and Minho clutching his jacket and shirt to his chest as the song raged on between them.

_“I wear my sunglasses at night…”_

Minho let himself fall to the floor as Felix extended a quick foot in his direction, doing some complicated move Felix could only half-see as he quickly spun around. He lifted himself into the air with a twirl, bringing his feet up in a non-regulation move as Minho slid under him and spun back up on his feet.

_“I say it to you now! I wear my sunglasses at night, I wear my sunglasses at night, I wear my sunglasses at night…”_

But that was the end of their unplanned coordination. Though they continued to circle each other, any proposed action was ignored or shut down by the other; they leapt and rolled and executed complicated steps, but no matter what they did, the song was coming to a close.

Gradually, the crying guitar overtook any words the song might offer. Felix slowly spun out the few remaining notes, coming to a stop and a final, elegant pose as Minho finished his own chest bumps, tying to the beginning of the song and wrapping his arms around himself in a facsimile of a hug.

They stood like that for a long moment, silence falling into the dance studio between them. Both of their chests noticeably moved up and down with the force of their breathing, and they stared into each others eyes, mindless of the sweat dotting their brows.

“Holy shit,” someone said. It broke through the thick silence, and all of a sudden the others were cheering for the two of them, clapping and swarming Minho to pat him on the back. Felix let himself drop from his final pose, and backed away from the celebrating group, scrubbing his hands over his face. All of a sudden he didn’t want to hear the praise they were pouring on Minho. It was all unbearable.

_You and them, lonely reaper._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading 💚✨!! i hope you all had a happy halloween 🎃👻!! 
> 
> [UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage](https://ich.unesco.org/en) is a real thing! If you're inclined, I encourage you to check out the website; it's really interesting!! The 'lists' tab will give you all of the protected art forms. There's food, music, and tonnes of other cool things. 
> 
> [(1)](https://www.tcd.ie/library/manuscripts/book-of-kells.php) [(2)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Kells) If you'd like an example of university people going feral over their precious artifacts, here's one that's close to home! My uni is currently in possession of the Book of Kells, a manuscript dating from the ninth century. It pains me to destroy all of this artwork, even in the realm of fiction, so here's a little reminder that it's all still here, and it is beautiful.
> 
> (edit: I FORGOT THE TITLE OH SHIT OH FUCK)


	11. Gotta Leave You All Behind And Face The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~✨surprise!✨~

_“O my brothers, I beat my palms, still soft, against the stubble of my_

_harvesting. (You beat your soft palms, too.) My pain is sweet._

_Sweeter than the oats or wheat or corn. It will not bring me_

_knowledge of my hunger.”_

The cold woke him.

He had curled up into something small under his sheets, he realized, and there came a faint sound of rain hitting the roof above his head.

This was the first time it had rained.

Felix forced himself to stretch out. His knees ached from curling up for so long, and when he sat up, his back cracked three times. Sleep clung to him, and his sheets tangled around him as he slung his legs over the edge of his bed.

His clock blinked at him from his bedside table. It told him that it was 6:13 in the morning, and that it was two days until the one month mark since he had been captured by Stray Kids. Beside the clock laid a small black notebook, a pencil, and an eraser.

Felix pushed the heel of his hands over his thighs, trying to get the blood to flow and trying to reassure the muscles there that they would be okay. It made his body rock back and forth with the effort, and he blinked back the sleep that rose up at the repetitive motion.

He had been journaling a lot. Seungmin had given him the notebook and the idea, telling him about healthy emotional outlets. It turned out that there was a lot for him to write down — he’d only had the black notebook for about a week, but it was already almost halfway full.

After managing to warm his muscles up, Felix felt a little more awake, and got up to pace around his room. Not that there was a ton of room to pace, but he wanted to wake up a little more, as it were. The cold seeped into the room, and he pulled a thick cardigan from the small wardrobe pushed against the wall and wrapped it tightly around himself.

The sound of the rain followed him as he escaped his room for the kitchen.

He took down a mug and the sugar from the cupboard, but stared at the coffee maker for a minute before realizing that he didn’t want any. Luckily there were a few breakfast tea bags sequestered away, and an electric kettle tucked into a corner on the countertop, and soon enough he had the water growling away and half the sugar pot dumped on top of the tea bag in his mug.

The rain pattered against the window. This was supposed to be about the time that the sun would be peeking over the buildings, but the sky was only a couple shades lighter than the blackness of night.

Felix was looking at his reflection in the window, watching the raindrops running down around the kitchen, when the electric kettle clicked. He gathered his cardigan around himself and poured his tea, watching it grow darker and darker as the tea steeped. It would take a minute longer to settle, and he tapped lightly on the side of the mug, never long enough for the heat to register on his fingers.

The sun did not exactly rise, but the sky became a lighter shade of gray, and gradually, Felix’s reflection faded from the window.

Minho came in a few minutes before seven, very wet, holding a pink box and a set of keys. When he noticed Felix, the keys disappeared somewhere on his person, and he set the box down on the table in front of him. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Felix mumbled into his mug.

“You want a doughnut?”

“I’m alright.”

“Sure I can’t tempt you? They had a fancy one that was lemon-flavoured.” Minho made appear a small brown paper bag with grease stains on the bottom; presumably it held the doughnut he spoke of. It was miraculously mostly dry. “I was going to keep it to myself, but I can share it, if you want.”

Felix eyed the bag. “… I might take a bite.”

With nothing more but a small grin, Minho set the bag on the table, and rummaged around the front hall for a moment, divesting himself of his coat and shaking out his wet hair. Felix watched the raindrops run down the window for a little while longer, accepted the bite when it was presented to him, and left the kitchen with his half-full mug.

The tea inside was cold by now and he could not quite find it within himself to care.

He wished, in some dull, muted way, that his room had a window. As it stood, he listened to the rain on his rooftop as he brushed his teeth and got ready for the day. His hair had grown slightly, and he tugged on the front fringe, seeing how far down his face it would stretch. It made it to the inside corner of his eyes before springing back into its natural wave, and a little bit further still — almost all the way down the bridge of his nose — if he ignored the slight pain that came with pulling his hair.

For a minute — a long, long minute — he gazed at his reflection. The changes were slight, near immeasurable, but they were there, and he studied them. The lines around his mouth, the bags under his eyes, and the fresh fullness of his cheeks. He was different, only slightly, and could not determine if the changes were a good thing or a bad thing.

In the very corner of the mirror, through the open doorway, Felix could see the black notebook where it sat on his beside table. He stood there for a minute, arms planted on the edge of the sink, staring at it with a million empty thoughts running through his head.

Ever since he had put words in the thing, it had begun to stare back.

* * *

_There are a few different ways I know myself; I have different names, and sometimes it feels like they’re different people. Most of the time, and for most of my life, I have been Felix; it means lucky, and Minho asked once if I felt the need to be lucky. Maybe my luck is inherent. It’s very lucky that I’m named lucky, then. I’ve needed a lot of luck in my life._

_I don’t really think there’s a vast difference between Felix and Yongbok. Yongbok is my other name, and its meaning has something to do with dragons, I’m pretty sure. The concept of dragons is a funny one to me. In the course of my training, I think I once took a class on mythological creatures and the reasons why people believed in them. I learned then that dragons were repurposed dinosaur bones, I suppose you could say. Something about the idea of dragons made them stick around, though, even after we figured out that ancient people just didn’t know what was buried underneath them, and that dragons weren’t real._

_They used to think that dragons were still around. Hidden in caves, or underwater, or up in the sky, places like that where people couldn’t get to. It must have been a strange world, where magic, the unimaginable, existed just beyond one’s reach. I don’t think I would have liked it — or maybe I would have. I’m not sure what kind of person I would be if I had grown up with stories and things. Since I’ve been here, I’ve wondered about the things I missed out on, considering how I was raised. Wondering wasn’t something I was allowed to do a lot, and even now I feel like I’m sneaking around when I do it._

_There’s a dragon in_ _The Hobbit ,_ _which is the book Seungmin reads to us some nights. He only reads one chapter at a time, and only reads once a week; we’re on the fourth chapter, I think. It’s a great book, I think, though I might be biased since it’s the first book I’ve ever experienced. There are songs at a few points, and when we get to them, it seems as if everyone knows the words by heart, and the living room is full with their singing. I don’t know the songs, though, and it feels a little odd to be the only silent one in such a noisy room; sometimes I feel as if I do, as if I_ _do_ _know what comes next, and I feel like if I step forward, then I will be in step with everyone else in the room, and we will all sing the song together perfectly. But I don’t know, of course._

_The dragon in_ _The Hobbit_ _is named Smaug. He is angry, and destructive, and quite greedy, and I am almost certain that they think of me in the same way. I don’t think I’m greedy or angry, but I know I am destructive to the point of deadliness. I wonder sometimes if being named a name that means something about dragons, well, meant anything. Does it make me like a dragon, the same way being named Felix makes me lucky? Did my parents want me to be angry and greedy and destructive? Did they know something about the person I would become? Was I destined to be lucky and destructive in equal measures, and named accordingly, or did I grow into the meanings of my names, assigned a random lottery at birth and somehow, by fate or subconsciousness knowledge, fit myself to those molds?_

* * *

Felix tipped the end of his pencil onto the page. The words stared up at him as he looked down at them — a mixture of Hangul and English — and he hesitated, thinking if there was anything else he could add to them.

Perhaps unfortunately, he was saved from his thoughts by a knock at the door.

Felix scrambled to put his notebook away, his heart pounding in his ears. He got up and went to open the door to find Chan on the other side, a small smile plastered on his face.

“Hey,” Chan greeted. “What’s up?”

Felix put a hand up to clutch his cardigan to his heart. The thing was still beating too fast for his liking, and he breathed in deeply through his nose. “Nothing much. You?”

“Just wondering if we could hang out,” Chan said. “Haven’t seen you in a while, and I wanted to check up on you.”

Felix opened the door wider in silent invitation, and Chan hesitantly stepped inside, casting his gaze around the neat room before settling on Felix once more. He smiled again, and sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile.

“How have you been?”

They both approached that question with something like dread. Felix divested himself of his cardigan, leaving him vulnerable in his sleep clothes, and sat up against the headboard of his bed, drawing his knees to his chest.

“I’ve been fine,” he said.

“Great,” Chan said as he dragged himself up to sit next to Felix at the top of the bed.

“Just had some thoughts on my mind,” Felix continued.

“You can talk to me about anything, you know,” Chan said quickly, as if he had been waiting for the opportunity.

“Yeah, if you were here,” Felix sniped back. It wasn’t meant to be overly hurtful, but Chan flinched away; he had been off on District Nine business, going early in the morning and coming back late at night, if he came back at all. The others said that this level of work was usual for Chan, but it didn’t really make Felix feel much better. He was torn between thinking that it wasn’t healthy, and thinking that he shouldn’t care if Chan had healthy habits or not.

Apparently, whatever he was working on had to do with Felix. His place in District Nine and its future.

“Hey,” Chan said, almost sounding ashamed. “Listen… I’m sorry I’ve been gone so often, the girls and I are talking a lot… they want to hear from you soon, too.” There was a moment of silence where Felix burrowed deeper into his knees, and Chan sighed almost silently and spoke again. “You’ve been a little more… withdrawn, lately. The kids have been telling me about how you don’t come to dinner as much.”

“Sorry,” Felix murmured to his knees.

“Don’t be,” Chan said. Felix glanced over to see him paying close attention to him. “If Jisung is bothering you…”

“No, it’s not him,” Felix burst out. “I just. I’ve been thinking. Like I said.”

“Oh.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Felix kept himself hunched over his knees, but watched Chan out of the corner of his eye, who stretched his legs as subtly as he could with them outstretched on the bed. He looked around Felix’s room with interest, or with a desperation to find something to talk about, and Felix watched as his eyes wandered from the cardigan bundled onto the edge of his bed, to the empty cup of tea on his bedside table, and finally to the notebook whose pages fanned slightly open, and the uncapped pen beside it.

“If you want to talk to me about what’s on your mind,” Chan finally said, his voice far too gentle, “I’m always here for you.”

There were a lot of things Felix had to think about nowadays. These people were strange, and they had taken him to a strange place and treated him strangely, and he felt… alien. Untethered.

Very much unlike himself. Sometimes it was hard to remember what he had been, and other times it crashed down upon him all at once, reminding him of what was then and what he was now until the differences were all too much and not enough.

“All my life, I’ve…” Felix murmured, but he kept the rest of those words locked inside of himself and let them rattle around his mind.

“… this must be pretty hard for you, huh,” Chan said. “Sometimes I don’t really think about how you only knew this one thing your whole life… you’ve only _been_ one thing your whole life. I don’t blame you for needing time to come around to all of this. We’re here for you when you need us.”

Felix studied him for a moment.

Chan was the perfect picture of someone who understood the world and his place in it. He was just steady, and firm, and offered his solidness for others to cling to. Many people did — Felix had seen almost all of the others waver, had seen their uncertainty and worries, and through it all Chan had stayed the same. Now he offered Felix this same steadiness to cling to. The same safe harbor he gave to the others. And although the thought of opening up and being vulnerable in this way terrified him, he knew, he _knew_ that it was so much better than being… empty.

Felix took a small breath, and asked, “What am I if I am not the perfect soldier?”

“… go on.”

Felix chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What happens when I give up everything that I ever knew how to be? Will there even be anything left?” There — there was more to say, but he would leave it there, let those words hang between them for now.

Chan bit his lip and contemplated the question, but what came out of his mouth caught Felix entirely off-guard. “You know, our plan of kidnapping the best assassin in the world and making him trust us enough to spill all of his secrets kind of fell apart when we met you.”

“What?”

“You’re,” Chan began, and sighed in slight frustration when the words didn’t come. “I guess I never really realized that you’re actually younger than me. It was just kind of always — you were this guy, this monster, even, and we were going to do the whole world a favour getting rid of you.”

“What changed your mind?” Felix asked.

“We got to know you,” Chan said, “and instead of us gaining your trust, you gained ours. Do you trust us?” he asked, very suddenly in comparison to his other words.

“Good question,” Felix replied, and they kept it at that.

During their short silence, Felix watched Chan; the other stared down at his hands, massaging the joint of his pointer finger. The best time to watch someone was while they were in deep contemplation, and Felix studied him closely, looking for any sign that this foundation would crack.

“You know,” Felix began slowly, “you’re doing a lot for me. More than what I would do for me, if I was in your place. We both know I don’t actually deserve any of it, so… just, why? I — I want to know why you made the decision to help me. Out of all the people I worked with, everyone I brought with me to kill you, I was the only one you brought back with you, the only one you bothered to — I don’t know. Rehabilitate. _Why?_ Why am I here? What do you _want_ from me?”  
  
“Because I believe in you,” Chan said. There was no hesitation in his voice, and he immediately met Felix’s eyes, wide and honest and true. Then he huffed a small laugh under his nose. “You’ve been asking the same question since you’ve gotten here, you know.”

“It has a lot of answers,” Felix murmured. “You — you _believe_ in me? What does that even mean?”

Chan hummed in consideration. “I don’t really know. There’s just something about you, Felix, and it makes me think that you’ll turn out alright.”

“You think I’ll turn out _alright?”_

“I do.”

“Did you forget everything I’ve done? Who I am? I don’t deserve to turn out _alright._ People like me don’t get — hah — we don’t get storybook endings. Don’t you dare forget what I am.”

“I thought you weren’t the perfect soldier anymore.”

“I — do you really think it’s that easy to just drop the person I used to be? The thing I _am?_ This isn’t like changing clothes, or, or putting on different coats, or different names — the things I’ve done cling to me, whether or not I give up what I am. You can’t decide which parts of your past to keep and which parts to forget. Don’t you get that? No matter how much I might want to give up this mindless killer I used to be, that’ll always be a part of me. There are things about me that I can’t escape, no matter how much I want to try.”

“I know.”

“Do you really get it?”

“Of course I do. There are parts of my own history I’d give almost anything to forget,” Chan said. “The past is inescapable, and I know how much it clings to you. All you can do is work towards the future. I believe in your future, Felix. I know it’s unclear right now where you’re headed. But as long as you’re still here, you have the chance to grow and change. You’ll always have your future.”

“Chan. I don’t have a _fucking future._ I just — ” Felix made a frustrated noise and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s nice to think about. I know that. But the things I’ve done can’t be wished away or forgotten…” He trailed off, and desperately scrounged for a way to change the course of the conversation. They could run around each other for ages, arguing about this until they ran out of voice. “You — you said once that I looked like I needed it.”

“Oh, gosh. That was ages ago, you still remember that?” Chan asked, acting incredulous but jumping on the topic change with relief. “I… yeah, you did look like you needed it. Felix, you were a ghost when we first heard of you, but the rare few glimpses we saw… you looked like you were fighting the whole world on your own. I almost couldn’t believe it. I thought it had to be a trick, a way to get us to let our guards down around this person that was pretending to be vulnerable… but that didn’t make sense, either. You didn’t know you were being watched. You had no reason to act like anything but yourself.”

“You’ll see any assassin with a sad face and just adopt them, then?”

Chan laughed, and Felix scoffed under his breath, and their conversation held still for a moment. Felix gathered his knees and held them closer to his chest; sometime in their talk, he had relaxed enough to let them fall limp. Now, however, as he looked at nothing and thought about what he needed to say, he felt himself tense again, only slightly.

“… do you really believe in me?” Felix asked quietly.

“I — yeah. I do.”

“Chan, that’s a terrible idea.”

“I know.”

“And it feels like a lie.”

Chan’s face creased in sorrow. “It’s not. It’s all I can do, at this point; I’m not exactly one to pray, and this isn’t that, but all I can do with you is _hope,_ and have a tremendous hope, that you will find the right path. I — I don’t know if that path is the one we’ve chosen. If your path is with us. But I do believe that you will have a good, happy life, that you will find the right path and thrive on it; I hope that we can help guide you to it, somehow, open your eyes to what exists in the world, what must be allowed to exist in the world… I believe in a lot of things, Felix, and I desperately believe in _you.”_

The air in Felix’s bedroom was still. They looked intently at each other, both of them searching for something.

Felix didn’t want to have to rely on someone who was hard as stone, or on anyone, really, but he had docked his heart in Chan’s safe harbor, and the two of them recognized the same wary vulnerability in each other. The same something that wanted to be held, shielded from the world…

He wondered, in a distant way, what Chan’s story was. How he had come to rise up against the Districts, and _why,_ when it would be so much easier to sit back and let the world fall to the wayside. He wondered what part of Chan cried out to him and told him that this was his calling, that this was what he must do…

He couldn’t imagine believing in something that desperately. There was nothing he loved that much.

“Okay,” Felix said quietly into the still of the room. “I believe you.”

As the words sank in, Chan slowly brightened. “You — really? You don’t think I’m lying?”

“Are you?”

“No,” Chan said, almost breathless with his joy. “Felix, I’m so glad.”

Felix had to turn away slightly; the sight of Chan’s broad smile was a little too much to bear, especially after they had both been so vulnerable. “Let’s make a deal,” he said instead. “I’ll go to dinner if you do.”

Chan agreed straight away. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“You have to call me _big brother,”_ Chan said, a wry grin on his face. “I’ll take care of you from now on. Alright?”

Felix felt warmth settle into his core. “Alright, hyung.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, thank you so much for reading!! this surprise chapter was meant to be a thank-you for 3k hits, but somehow we managed to get 4k hits before i could release it, lol! I'm super excited to share this with you and i really hope you enjoyed it. today is also my birthday, so i'm really pleased to do this for you guys. i always try to publish something special today, since it's also my ao3 anniversary, and this chapter is really important to both me and this story as a whole. 🎉✨
> 
> thank you all so much for reading. all of your kind, thoughtful comments, and your continued support have really cheered me up since i've started publishing this; thanks to you all, i feel more confident in my abilities as a writer and in myself as a person. i cherish each of you, and i hope you find something in this story that speaks to you. thank you, thank you, thank you. i could never thank you enough, truly. 
> 
> please enjoy what's to come. 
> 
> (i'll be taking a break until **sunday, december 6th** to write the next few chapters. i hope to see you then!! this is the official midway point of the story — it's 200 pages long so far, and i'm looking forward to giving you all the next two hundred!!)
> 
> (EDIT 6/12: guys i'm so so sorry, this next chapter really didn't want to be written, i'll try to have it out next sunday 💚💚 thank you for everything and for 5k!! you all are the best!!)


	12. I Don’t Want To Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is 12k words (^^;;) please enjoy!!

Things didn’t fall into place all at once. Felix knew they wouldn’t, and that he was being irrational when he wanted everything to be… not perfect, but at least okay, but he couldn’t stop thinking that nothing had changed and nothing was going to change.

His one-month anniversary, as it were, came and went without much fanfare. They all played nice at the dinner table and watched a documentary afterwards about coffee and other types of drinks, which was informative, at least, even if everyone was utterly silent during the whole thing.

Chan was notably absent.

Really, Felix shouldn’t have expected anything different. He supposed Chan was gone for good reason; he told them that he was working with the higher-ups in District Nine (some kind of high council — they were making their way steadily through _The Hobbit,_ and Seungmin loved to dismiss District Nine as _Lord of the Rings–esque,_ not that Felix really understood what that meant) and pleading Felix’s case. Apparently, Felix was supposed to show his face to the rest of them soon enough.

He didn’t really know what they wanted from him. Would they kill him? Probably not; Chan held a lot of sway here, and he would (hopefully) throw a stinking fit if that was the case. No doubt they wanted him dead, though.

Filled with his thoughts, he stayed up later than usual, telling his journal about his anxieties, and the day’s events, and small stories that he remembered from his time before. He still didn’t have a bedside lamp, only the lights embedded into the ceiling, so the time ticked away with him only barely noticing.

It was about half past two in the morning when Chan finally came home.

He knocked on Felix’s door, and creaked it open before Felix had time to fully hide his journal. “Hey,” he said, hiding half of himself behind the open door. “Saw your light was on. You should sleep.”

Felix only raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“I know,” Chan said with a sigh. “I’ve just — been busy.”

Nobody else really knew what Chan was doing, either. Minho had more information than the others, but it still wasn’t enough for any of them, and he got irritated when they tried to push him to tell them things he didn’t know. Even if this was supposed to be normal for Chan, it was obvious that the others were getting as tired of it as Minho was.

“I’ve been talking with the rest of the District 9 council,” he explained. With a world-weary sigh, he finally entered Felix’s room fully, closed the door behind him, and flopped down onto the bed beside him. “For… obvious reasons, I suppose, everyone’s pretty interested in you. I’ve been telling them how much we like you, and how well we all work together… but it’ll take more than my word for it to change their minds, no matter how much sway I hold. I’ve really only got my vote, and maybe Jihyo. Two votes isn’t going to be enough to do what I want with you, even if a few people don’t show up for the final vote like I expect, _but…”_

Here, Chan cheered up a bit. Felix didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but it was kind of nice to see Chan actively de-stress. If he needed to rant a little bit, then Felix wasn’t going to stop him.

“But I’ve been talking to most of the others and they’re willing to give you a shot,” Chan said, with a smile so wide and bright that Felix had to fight giving one of his own. He still didn’t really understand, and was beginning to get a bit nervous since this obviously involved him, but Chan’s joy was unfortunately very infectious.

“Huh?”

“Consider it kind of a trial run,” Chan said. “Jihyo suggested we watch how you interact with the kids while on a mission, and Sungjin-hyung said that there was a low-stakes, information retrieval type thing that we could do for him. What do you think?”

Felix looked at Chan for a hard moment. He set his journal aside, his pencil acting as a bookmark for his page, and said, once more, “Huh?”

“If we asked you to do a really easy mission that is incredibly unlikely to go wrong, with a bunch of people who kind of don’t like you watching your every move, that is scheduled for tomorrow night, what would you say?"

“Hm,” Felix said, very eloquently. “What happens if I refuse?”

Chan considered the idea for a moment. “Probably nothing,” he said. “You’d probably stay here until someone else thinks of a better reason to have you. Are you going to refuse?”

“Probably not,” Felix said, his voice just the tiniest bit hollow. Not enough for Chan to notice, but he could feel a widening chasm open underneath him. That wasn’t entirely unusual; Felix had been on plenty of surprise missions before, those with short notice, and they always took him off-guard. It had been a while, though, since the last one.

He did appreciate that he was supposed to have a choice. Usually, the Districts just tossed him out and told him to get the job done.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” Felix said. “If it gets people to understand that I’m not a threat to them, then sure.”

Chan rolled over and stared up at Felix from where he laid down on his dark grey sheets. “Not a threat, hm? I’m relieved to hear it, considering I’m letting you live in my house and all, but what changed your mind about us?”

Felix drew his knees up to his chest and contemplated the question for a moment, tapping his knees in the silence. “I don’t know. I figure it’s better for me to be in with you right now than in opposition. Maybe that’ll change later, who knows. I do care for my self-preservation, though, so as long as I’m here with you it’s best to do what you think I should do.”

“You have absolutely no filter at two in the morning,” Chan mused.

“Yeah, well, neither do you.”

“Still.” Chan pulled himself up with a tremendous groan until he was sitting up on the bed. “It might be better to… emphasize the idea that you’ve learned to appreciate life and art, and have come to see things from our perspective. It doesn’t have to be a lie if you speak vaguely enough. I can show you how.”

For a moment, Felix held his breath. What Chan proposed was nearly blasphemous, at least to him; it must have shown on his face how shocked he was, because Chan immediately began to backpedal.

“I,” Felix said, and Chan fell silent. “I don’t know where I stand, exactly. On one hand, I enjoy the stories and everything, and I agree that they have value that I didn’t know about. On the other hand, though, I can’t let go of the fact that they’re all lies, at their core; I don’t know if I even want to let go of that part of me. There’s nothing worse to me than a lie. I think you’ve figured that out, at least. I don’t want you to teach me how to lie.” At those words, he shot Chan a stern look, but it softened as he continued. “I know there are objectively worse things in the world than a dumb lie. I’ve partaken in some of those terrible things… but it feels like lying is the core of everything. It’s a paradoxical truth. Do you get it?”

“Not really,” Chan said. “But. It’s late, and we should both be asleep.”

Felix had been gesturing slightly with his hands, and let them fall limply into his lap. “Why did you even suggest that?” he asked.

It took a long moment before Chan would answer that question, and he fell backwards to lie on the bed once more, staring up at the ceiling instead of Felix’s face. “After the mission thingie,” he said, “we wanted to… interview you, I guess. Just so they could get your thoughts on everything.”

Felix made a small, noncommittal noise. Chan had a way of underplaying most things, so Felix’s imagination ran away with him somewhat, telling him about endless trials and kangaroo courts and cold, dark rooms with eyes staring down at him from all directions. Even if he skipped out on running this mission, he’d probably still have to sit through their interview. He wondered, for a brief moment, what he was going to say, but it was too late for those kinds of thoughts, and he was too tired to entertain the fantasy for very long.

“Again, it’s late,” Chan continued, after it became obvious that Felix wasn’t going to say anything. “I’ll leave you. Sleep well; we’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured, still slightly lost in his thoughts. He looked up when Chan rose up from the bed and made his way to the door. “Good night, hyung.”

With a cheery little smile, Chan left, and Felix was once again alone in his ever-consistent room.

* * *

That night, Felix dreamt of a lady on fire.

He was nine years old again, and stood in his first burning facility. It must have been after hours or something, since no one was there; but all the furnaces were wide open, without anyone standing guard to make sure no one got too close to the blazing fires. It was incredibly loud, but due to the nature of the dream, Felix only slightly felt any heat.

The dream pulled his gaze to the furnace closest to him. Like all the rest, it was wide open and roaring with the strength and heat of its fire; it cast a golden glow on the floor, and, Felix assumed, on his own face. Inside, he saw a grown-up lady, with pale, rosy skin, gentle brown eyes, and hair swept up into a neat pile on her head. She wore a blue silk dress across her shoulders, ruffled with thick, textured tulle, and smiled sweetly at him.

She was the subject of the painting Felix had watched burn many years ago. She was also on fire.

“Lee Yongbok,” the lady said, though the dream had Felix looking at the floor and the fire and her dress rather than her face. He didn’t especially think watching melting oil paint move in the semblance of a human’s mouth would be very nice, so perhaps his dream was protecting him, somehow. “Come pull me out. Please.”

And yet Felix hesitated — he knew, in a dream sort of way, that if he were to take her out of the fire, then the fire would take him instead. That was how the fire worked. It needed to burn to live, and it cared little for what it consumed.

“Why are you hesitating?” the lady asked.

“I don’t want to be on fire,” Felix told her.

The lady reached out with imploring arms. Felix’s vision focused on them, the oil paint slipping away and melting into the fire as she searched for his gaze. She called to him once more. “Please, I need you to save me. Please help me.”

All the while she smiled at him, and her face was relaxed as she seemed totally unaffected by the heat of the fire, but Felix watched her fingertips drip away and understood that there was some urgency to be had. A thrumming nervousness through the world. Still, he hesitated.

“If you don’t help me now,” the lady said, “It’ll be too late.”

Felix couldn’t stand it anymore — he turned away, unable to look her in the eye. And yet the moment he turned, he felt her hand in his.

She was so hot that he first registered her as cold. The hot oil dripped onto his arm, even as he felt her thin, flakey, oil-painted skin on his hand. With rising horror, he felt her grip him even tighter, and within a moment, used him to pull herself free from the fire.

Then, of course, he could feel it. It burned exquisitely. He stared out from the furnace, seeing the other fires burning brightly and flickering on her silk dress. She stood pristine and unburnt, with that same impassive smile on her face — though she couldn’t help it, he supposed, since that was how she was painted. He felt a keen sense of betrayal unique to nine year olds.

He opened his mouth, and said, “Help me.”

“But I am just a simple painting,” the lady said; and another layer of reality became clear to him, showing that this was indeed the case. “A painting such as I am cannot take your hand and lead you from those flames. Art can only show you that there is a fire around us both, and that it is burning us alive, but it is up to you to step out of it yourself.”

“That’s not fair,” Felix cried, acutely aware that at nine years old he still believed in justice and fairness. “I pulled _you_ out.”

“And I am grateful to you for that,” the lady said. “Which is why I am letting you know that you are on fire.”

All at once Felix remembered the fact that he was in a furnace. He had nearly forgotten, somehow, and as if responding to his attention, the fire roared with heat once more. There was no more room in his mind for talking anymore. His entire existence was an unrelenting heat that reached for what was inside him, what rested at the core of him. Felix became the sole and utter act of protecting the precious thing inside of him. Whatever it was, he could not let the fire touch it; he curled into the smallest thing he could imagine and held himself close, as if that would somehow stop the fire from touching it.

It was all around him now, so tall that when he looked up, all he saw was fire; when he looked down, he was enveloped in fire; and when he looked around, all there was, was fire. A line of heat sliced along his face, over his eye, and he cried out mindlessly — and with tremendous effort, he pulled himself from the dream, back into his cold, windowless bedroom, into the waking world.

He clutched his face. There lingered a phantom heat all over him, burning him from the inside out, and he kicked his thin blankets off of him and sat up in the middle of his bed. When his fingers touched the newly pink scar on his face, cutting over his forehead, skipping over his eye, and running all the way down to nick his upper lip, the heat began to ebb away.

Felix closed his eyes and fell back onto his bed. It was far too early for how late he had fallen asleep, and he was tired from his dream and from the expectations weighing him down. He thought about the idea of his mission, and staring eyes that were close by and far away and had been watching all his life, and his thoughts rambled through his mind until he thought of nothing at all.

Eventually, he managed to fall back asleep, and by the time he awoke once more, the dream was almost completely forgotten.

* * *

Before he could enter the kitchen, jonesing for a cup of coffee and maybe a doughnut if Minho had gone out, Chan shoved a travel mug into his hands and steered him back to his room. Felix, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, couldn’t help but sputter out his confusion. His socked feet slid everywhere on the wooden floor.

“Up, up, get up, I’ll grab you two doughnuts if you get ready within ten minutes,” Chan told him. “We need to debrief you at headquarters, plus get you acquainted with a few really important people. I told Jihyo that we’d be there by eight, it is currently twenty past seven, and the drive takes an hour with morning traffic. She’s going to kill me.”

Felix sipped from his travel mug and accepted his fate.

Eight minutes later, he stood by the front door of the flat, waiting with his shoes on for Chan to join him. It took another four or so minutes for him to appear, dragging a protesting Changbin along with him (not that Felix was counting or anything). He shoved three doughnuts held together by one struggling napkin into Felix’s hand, and with the same frantic energy stepped into his shoes and hounded Changbin to do the same. Felix only had enough time for one bite before the three of them were hurried out the door.

Felix finished the first doughnut (filled with lemon creme, messy but very good) in the elevator. He wondered vaguely if Chan’s mornings were always like this.

There was a small garage off to the side of the building, and Chan waited with Felix while Changbin went to go fetch their car. As they waited, Felix started on his next doughnut (this time apple-filled, with lots of sugar on top) while steadily ignoring Chan’s attempts at conversation. He was saying something kind of important about the different people Felix was about to meet, but there was food right in front of his face, and Felix had his priorities.

“How long does it take to pull a car around, anyway,” Chan grumbled to himself. He peered at Felix out of the corner of his eye. “Have you been listening at all to anything I’ve been saying?”

“Nope.”

“Just please remember to be nice and don’t say anything if no one is talking to you. And please don’t fight anyone if they try to drag you off, just yell and get our attention instead, okay?”

Felix hummed his agreement. In all honesty, he was quite nervous about his mission, and meeting the rest of Chan’s rebellion, but he was still waking up and didn’t lend the feeling much thought. He finished his second doughnut and glanced at the last one (glazed) warily.

Finally, the car Felix recognized from his drive up to the mountains rolled to a stop before them. Chan pushed him into the backseat even though he grumbled about it. (He couldn’t help it; his legs were long.)

“Not that we don’t trust you,” Chan began, and Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “But the others will throw a fit if you don’t wear a blindfold during the car ride. It won’t be for long.” He held out a black strip of fabric.

“How would they even tell,” Felix asked, although he took the blindfold anyway, tying it around his eyes as Chan said something about not wanting to lie, and not actually wanting to show Felix where they were going just in case, and whatever. When he was satisfied with the end result — he could still see vague shapes through the fabric, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain — he chewed contemplatively on the last, glazed doughnut.

“How come you were able to have three doughnuts,” Changbin grumbled from the front seat.

“Ignore him, he’s just mad he didn’t get to eat anything this morning,” Chan stage-whispered to Felix. “Because he’s lazy and slow and we’re going to be _so_ late.”

“I’d give you the rest of this one, but…” Felix said.

“Yeah, don’t bother, just keep it,” Changbin said, even more grumbly than before, if that was possible.

Felix very happily ate the last little bit. He had half a mind to care about eating something healthy for once, but figured it was fine since he was going to be expending a lot of energy that evening.

The drive took long enough for him to become bored, and he dozed slightly as they slogged through traffic. Chan cursed the clock, Changbin’s driving, and every other car on the road, and it was nearly soothing enough to put Felix to sleep. Every so often, Chan would ask him if he was still alive back there, and he always mumbled out something in the affirmative.

Eventually they did finally make it to their destination. They were, however, over half an hour late, and Felix took off his blindfold to find a very angry woman waiting in front of a rather nice house gate in the middle of a posh residential area.

_“Bang Chan,”_ the woman said, with noticeable irritation. She had brown hair cut above her shoulders, and wore a creamy, tunic-like sweater over a black turtleneck and black jeans. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she shivered a little. Not that Felix felt very bad for apparently keeping her waiting.

“Hi,” Chan said with a cheeky grin.

“It’s so fucking cold.”

“I know,” Chan said, though he didn’t sound very bothered by the prospect. He reached around and brought Felix to stand in front of her, and the two of them regarded each other. The woman glared very strongly at him, and Felix was still mostly incapable of coherent thought, so he just blinked at her. “Jihyo, this is Yongbok. Felix-ah, this is Park Jihyo, District Nine’s de facto leader and the leader of the Twice subunit. We feel very bad about keeping her waiting in the early December cold, don’t we?” Chan didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Is anyone else here? Other than Joonie-hyung, and Sungjin-hyung.”

“You have kept us waiting for _forty minutes,”_ Jihyo said, her voice low and dangerous.

“Traffic.” In contrast, Chan’s voice was light and breezy. Personally, Felix was a little wary of Jihyo, even if she was a couple inches shorter than him and shivering in the cold.

Jihyo gave them a hard stare for a couple more seconds, and finally relented, turning to punch a code into a panel next to the gate. With a beep, the door swung open, and the four of them piled into the property.

The first thing Felix really registered was how _tall_ the house was. The fence hid the house from view, and they climbed a short, natural staircase into a small but beautiful garden — there was a small patio, and a flowerbed with all sorts of leafy plants, and trees behind the bed — and the house itself loomed above them all, two stories high and all but bulging at the seams. It seemed to want to be larger than it was, even if foliage hid most of the ground floor from view as they walked up to the front door.

Jihyo input another code for the front door, and the four of them kicked off their shoes before putting them neatly in a row thanks to a quick _“hey!”_ someone shot their way from around the corner. Felix only caught a glimpse of long hair, so black it was almost blue. In all honesty, he did understand the need to be organized; it only took a quick look around to realize that the house, as big as it was, was filled to the brim with _things._ They had to step over what seemed to be scores of pairs of shoes to get to the inside of the house, the umbrella holder in the corner was filled with walking sticks and crutches and, indeed, umbrellas, and the hall closet could barely be closed with the amount of thick, puffy jackets shoved inside.

“They’re here!” Jihyo shouted to the house at large. Various calls came from around the house, and she herded the three of them to a large, cluttered kitchen. There was a large, oval table in the middle of the room, with a vase of flowers in the middle, surrounded by piles of books and papers leaning haphazardly over each other. A couple scrolled papers hung over the side, kept in place by a few cups and mugs that held the last dredges of orange juice and morning tea. A large cabinet with cut-out glass doors was pushed into the corner next to the counter and filled with plates, bowls, and several wine glasses. The fridge was covered with magnets and post-it note reminders, and pots, pans, and plastic kitchen utensils (Felix noted three different spatulas — one with a wooden handle and a pink, rubber head, one that was pure black, and one that was stainless steel with long holes cut vertically along the head) hung over the stove and scattered around the counter. Dishes were piled up next to the sink, mostly clean, and the tile counter was littered with crumbs and uneaten apples and oranges. Felix tripped over a pet’s food dish, somehow.

A few other women lingered in the kitchen, most likely finishing the last bits of their breakfasts. The one by the sink washing dishes had short, roughly cut, blonde hair, and wore a striped sweater that was a size too large for her. She turned to look at the boys, and Felix noted her large eyes and a mole under her mouth. One that went to get a few mugs from the cabinet was much taller than the other women, with smooth, tan skin and reddish-brown hair. She wore a hoodie with a cartoon character on the front and had a very serious expression as she regarded the boys. The last woman smiled at Jihyo as she sat down next to her at the crowded table; she wore a patterned button-down blouse and black slacks, and had long black hair tied into a low ponytail. They all looked way too well put together for how early it was.

“Hey, Channie,” the woman with the low ponytail said. “And Changbinnie. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“Too long,” Chan said with a charming smile.

“Can we get you coffee?”

Felix wanted to say yes very badly, but he remembered Chan telling him to not speak unless someone talked to him first, so he bit his tongue. Besides, he didn’t know these women, and it probably wouldn’t go over well if he started asking favors as a first impression.

“I don’t think so,” Chan said, and Felix stomped on his foot. “Actually, on second thought, coffee would be great.”

The woman smiled at him. “Girls, you know what to do. Anyway, Chan, don’t be rude. Introduce us to your friend, please.”

Chan smiled back. Felix had no idea what to think — the two of them either hated each other with their entire hearts, or were the best of friends.

“Felix-ah, this is Im Nayeon — ” the low-ponytail woman nodded at him — “Son Chaeyoung — ” the woman at the sink raised a hand in their direction — “and Chou Tzuyu.” The tall woman, who was now gathering milk and sugar, peeked around the door of the refrigerator to wave at him. “Everyone, this is Lee Yongbok.”

Felix bowed at the room, stared at the floor, and didn’t say a word.

Chan, Nayeon, and Jihyo chatted among themselves for a bit longer as a few other people joined them. Changbin kept him company, and introduced him to everyone; there was a woman with deep blue hair and a button-up cardigan named Kim Dahyun (who Changbin was very happy to see, and they chatted about something so technical and detailed that Felix had no hope of keeping up), a man with a jean jacket over a hoodie named Park Sungjin (most likely the hyung Chan had talked about earlier) accompanied by another man with an ever-present smile that introduced himself as YoungK (although everyone else in the room shouted him down and told Felix to call him Brian), and a man with tinted sunglasses (even though it was cloudy outside, and besides, they were indoors) and silver hair named Kim Namjoon. Felix had a hard time keeping track of everyone, even though the cup of coffee Tzuyu had pushed into his hands helped significantly. It was just better than the coffee they made at the apartment, somehow. Felix felt very at peace as he sipped at it.

The chatter in the kitchen grew loud enough that people started having to lean in close to talk to each other, and Felix found himself squished by Changbin and Dahyun’s conversation on one side, and Brian and Sungjin on the other as they talked with Chaeyoung. He shrank into himself somewhat and drank his coffee valiantly.

Somehow, entirely on accident, he made eye contact with Tzuyu. She stared at him in a considering manner for a moment, as he did his best to refocus on his coffee and not be flustered, and ducked down to whisper something to Chan, Jihyo, and Nayeon. The three of them listened attentively and nodded at her once they were done.

“Alright, everyone,” Jihyo said, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Let’s reconvene in the living room and start the meeting and debrief. We’ve all had adequate time to prepare and I don’t want to waste another second of the day, got it?”

Everyone murmured something in acquiescence, and Felix was grabbed by Changbin and taken to the living room. Unfortunately he had to leave his mug behind. He almost tripped on a cat toy in the cluttered hallway, and an orange tabby cat rushed out of its hiding place to chase after the feathery thing. It sniffed at him in the cautious way cats investigated things they were interested in beating the shit out of, and Felix crouched down to give it his hand. It seemed to approve of him, and bonked its head against his hand, giving him big eyes and a gently flicking tail. He picked it up and scratched behind its ears.

Changbin watched the goings-on with a smug smile. When Felix raised his eyebrows in a silent question, all he said was, “I knew you were a cat person.”

“I like dogs, too,” Felix muttered in his ear. The cat snuggled deeper into his arms as they continued their way to the living room. “All animals, actually. I prefer ‘em to the dominating species on the planet.”

“Sheesh.”

Chan stopped the two of them in the hallway before they went in. “Is that Pepper?”

Felix looked at the orange tabby cat in his arms, who was now snoring softly. “The cat?”

“No, the Rottweiler. _Yes,_ the cat; Pepper doesn’t like anyone? That’s where he got his name — because he’s spicy.”

“He seems nice,” Felix murmured, craning his neck to press his lips to Pepper’s head. “And cute.”

_“Not_ cute,” Chan grumbled. “That creature is an agent of chaos.”

“Oh, all the more reason why I like him very much,” Felix said. He bounced slightly, as if he was holding an actual baby, and Pepper shifted to put a paw over his shoulder and tuck his head into Felix’s neck.

“Channie-hyung, you can’t deny that that’s sickeningly cute,” Changbin said.

“I can and I will.”

“Look. Pepper is purring.”

From the living room, Nayeon’s voice floated over to them. “Are you three coming or not? You’ve had us waiting long enough this morning!”

“Coming, noona,” Chan called. He gave Felix one last stink eye, and led the three of them into the crowded, cluttered living room. There were even more people shoved into the room, with a sheet of paper hanging off the sides of a coffee table and an empty couch facing the rest of them. Felix saw a couple more guys — maybe only one or two, besides the three he had already been introduced to — and several more women. Jihyo, Sungjin, and Namjoon sat down in chairs in front of the couch, while everyone else stood.

Every eye turned to the three of them. Felix’s arms tightened instinctively around Pepper, though he forced himself to relax before the cat got uncomfortable.

More than a couple of the women smirked at the cat in Felix’s arms, though most of the other people in the room seemed surprised. Brian whispered something to Sungjin, and Dahyun stifled a small laugh behind her hand.

“Is that Pepper?” Jihyo asked.

“You’d know better than me,” Felix answered, and Chan hip-checked him so hard he almost lost his balance.

“Can you please put my cat down,” she continued, though Felix could see her stern mask waver under a suppressed laugh. Felix did as she asked and set Pepper down on the ground gently, though he miaowed pitifully and refused to leave his side. “Let’s please get this meeting started, we’ve all waited long enough.”

  
“I do not control the traffic,” Chan muttered under his breath, ignoring the fact that they definitely left later than they should have. He and Felix sat on the couch, and Changbin stood next to them, looking over their shoulders at the large sheet of paper on the coffee table. It seemed to be blueprints of some building, though Felix didn’t have time to take it in before it was explained to him.

Pepper jumped into his lap and curled up in content. Absent-mindedly, Felix pet him gently, scratching the base of his tail and behind his ears.

“This is a really easy mission, it’s very basic and if all goes well you won’t have to use any sort of violence at all,” Sungjin began. Felix blinked a little — he had half expected Jihyo to lead the debriefing, since it was her house, after all. “This apartment building is used to host a few high-profile officials who visit Seoul, such as ambassadors from other Districts, members of organizations or boards, and the like.”

“Like the Board for Artistic Development,” Changbin said, nodding wisely. “Felix-ah told us about it. Very educational.”

Felix noted that more than a few of them looked at Changbin with confusion. Probably about his name — no one had said anything, but he knew they were confused when Chan talked to Felix using his actual name. He trusted that they’d all drop it, and focused back on what Sungjin was telling him.

“… right. Anyway, there’s a lot of sensitive information flowing in and out of this building. We’d like it to know what it is, and see if we can’t cause a few setbacks by destroying what we can,” Sungjin continued. “As it is, we can’t access any of that information. We know it’s there, and we know it’s valuable, but that’s the extent of our knowledge. We don’t know exactly who is in the building, what their plans are, or what kind of internet or backup storage services they’re using. There’s no way we can back door our way into their computers. Do you get what I’m saying so far?”

“Uh,” Felix said, eloquently. “There’s a bunch of information you want that’s just out of your reach.”

“Right. That’s where you and Changbin come in.”

Felix glanced to his right, where Changbin was leaning against the armrest of the sofa and peering intently at the blueprints. He’d ask later.

“There’s a chance that this information is being physically written down, and if it is and you see it, obviously you grab it. But there’s also a chance that they’re keeping all their correspondence and plans on their computers, which is why we’re bothering to check. I have two USB drives that you’ll use on each device.” Sungjin made appear two tiny USB sticks, one blue with the number 1 sharpied on, and the other red with the number 2. “One USB stick runs a program that sends all the information on a device to our servers. And we have a lot of servers, so don’t worry about running out of storage space on our end. The other stick bricks the device completely. I’m very proud of this program.” He touched the red USB stick with a small, fond smile. “We worked hard on it, and sacrificed some of our own devices, which is a bummer. Anyway, always put stick 1 in first, and stick 2 in second, otherwise it’s not going to work. We’ll provide you a few copies of both, in case anything happens to them.”

Sungjin took a small break to catch his breath. Pepper fidgeted on Felix’s lap, so he pushed the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his hand and bothered him slightly. Pepper latched onto his arm with all four of his limbs and also his teeth, and savaged him playfully.

“Okay, so. When you plug the stick in, go find the place where you can launch the program on the computer. For macOS, it’s the Finder; for Windows, Start Menu or File Explorer. Or it’ll pop up on the desktop if it’s not too crowded. If you plug it into a phone or tablet, and we’ll give you adaptors since most phones don’t actually have USB ports… anyway, if you plug them into a mobile device, a prompt screen should pop up, and you tap the button that says trust the device or let the program run or whatever. When you have the program open on a computer, it’ll start running automatically, and the first one will beep at you when it’s done, while the second one should be obvious. Do you understand so far?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, I’ll pass it over to Jihyo, then. I’m not good with the technical aspect of your guys’ thing,” Sungjin said. “Just remember, 1 goes first, 2 goes second. Shouldn’t be that hard to remember.”

“We’re not incompetent, oppa,” Jihyo grumbled. “Just because we don’t have a master’s in computer science or whatever. Anyway." She rolled her eyes and tapped the blueprints on the table. “These are the floor plans for the apartment building in Jung-gu. It used to be a place for scholars and government officials to stay in the 1700s or something, so the floor plan is a little unusual for our modern standards. There are three suites per floor, and five residential floors above the ground floor’s reception and dining hall. That doesn’t mean that all the rooms are occupied — District officials tend to travel with large entourages, so usually one room per floor is dedicated to the actual official, while the other rooms are for their bodyguards and secretaries. We’re good with you downloading everyone’s information, since all information is valuable, but obviously the high-profile guests should have the priority. Right?”

“Mhm.” Felix was pretty sure he would be able to tell the difference between an official’s room and a bodyguard’s room; he had been a bodyguard himself a few times, and usually they had much neater rooms than the officials they had been sent to protect.

“Right. The layout of each floor is the same, and Sungjin-oppa will give you a device that lets you break into rooms with electronic locks, so don’t kick the doors down or anything.”

“It’s a keycard Jae coded with a skeleton key program. Should work if you tap it or insert it into any lock. I’ll give you a couple in case you lose one, but they can be used a lot,” Sungjin said.

“There you go,” Jihyo said, waving her hand in Sungjin’s general direction. “Get in, get information as soon as possible, and get out. I don’t care if you trash the rooms — they’re going to know we were in there anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Privately, Felix decided to allocate that task to Changbin, if he wanted it. “I would go from top to bottom, but we’re leaving the fine details of the attack up to you. Just — be careful.” She shuddered minutely, and Felix didn’t exactly blame her. It probably sucked to ask someone she hated to be careful. “You’re going in pretty blind — we don’t know how many people will be there, or their level of security. Stick with Changbin, since you won’t be able to protect yourself otherwise.”

Felix felt his forehead crease in confusion. “What?”

Beside him on the sofa, Chan shifted uncomfortably. When Felix turned to glare at him, he said, “We’re not letting you have any weapons this time around. It’s not that we don’t trust you — ”

The other people in the room looked away from the two of them, coughing into their sleeves. Nayeon muttered _“yeah, right”_ under her breath.

Chan shot all of them a wicked look. “It’s just that there are precautions we want to take,” he concluded, a little lamely.

“I’ll have a gun and a couple of knives,” Changbin said. “Though I’m sure you could still destroy me regardless.”

Felix made a noncommittal noise and turned back to the blueprints, fighting back his slowly rising anger. On his lap, Pepper had curled up into a tiny ball, and was purring loudly and warm; he gave him a couple pats and squished the anger into mild irritation.

“How much time will we have?” Felix asked. “When do we start? How do we get there? How are we supposed to get in, and how are we supposed to get out? I — I don’t mean to speak out of hand, but in all honesty I care little about how you arm me. I am capable enough without weapons and all of us know it.” He sent a challenging gaze to Jihyo. “Please just let me know what I need to know without getting distracted by our differences. I’m working with you right now. Okay?”

Instead of the irritation Felix expected, Jihyo fixed him with a carefully neutral stare. He had the feeling that he was being examined, or that he had just been tested, and held his breath as she seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Alright,” Jihyo said. “We’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

* * *

“So this is baby’s first mission,” Felix said, unable to hide all of his disdain as he peered up at the beautiful apartment building they were set to infiltrate that evening. “Are you sure everyone will be at this dinner party?”

“Hopefully. If all goes well, you won’t even have to fire a shot.”

“You mean Changbin won’t.”

Chan sucked on his teeth. “Does that… upset you?”

Felix sat back in the car seat and stared out the windshield. “Why would I be upset about not having a weapon. Like you said, if all goes well we shouldn’t even run into anyone.”

“I wish you would just say, like, _yes it does,_ you know, like a normal person.”

“It doesn’t.”

Chan sighed in resignation. “We have about an hour before the dinner party starts. Do you want to get something to eat?”

They ended up at a semi-basement restaurant, where meals were typically less than ten thousand won if you didn’t order a soda or whatever. Chan treated him, and Felix was cheered by the prospect of having actual vegetables. The wonders of a well-balanced meal.

After dinner, they picked Changbin up from Jihyo’s house, where he had been preparing for the mission with the girls. All nine of them waved him off, and he climbed into the backseat of the car without too much fuss. He handed Felix a duffel bag, filled with a change of clothes and all the devices Sungjin had told him about — he was already dressed and geared up, himself. Chan gave the two of them earpieces to tuck into their shirts, and Felix stared at the tiny piece of clear plastic for a long moment.

There had always been something ritualistic about getting ready for an assignment. It felt ancient, in a way; as if this act had been passed down through the centuries, an entirely human act to cover and protect. They had sacrificed their fur in order to rule the world.

Felix changed into a black turtleneck and jeans. He had no qualms about changing in front of the others, although Chan made it a point to stare straight out the window shield.

Changbin poked a scar on Felix’s shoulder. “Where’d you get that?”

Felix felt at his shoulder until he touched starburst scar tissue. “This one?”

“Yeah.”

“Oi, Changbin, don’t be rude,” Chan scolded.

“No, it’s fine,” Felix said, mentally going through his memories as he put his shirt on. There were two starburst scars on his left shoulder from two different incidents, and he didn’t want to get them confused. “I was in Australia, maybe a year or so ago. That was my last long-term mission before you guys. I was supposed to infiltrate a rebel group — not eliminate, like you guys, just infiltrate since they were in the outback and not causing any real harm — they called themselves punk anarchists, and that’s why I dyed my hair, you know.” He reached up to tug a lock of it — it had grown out somewhat, but a large part of bleached frizz remained.

“I was wondering,” Changbin said. “You don’t seem the type to dye your hair.”

“I don’t, huh. So, anyways, I successfully infiltrated the group — I’m pretty infamous, but it’s my name that’s well known, not my face. We didn’t do much, just shot at cans on fenceposts and tried to get the miners to organize. The Districts don’t have much reach in rural areas so they thought it would be easy to get a militia operating under the radar. We only had a few new recruits coming in per month, though, and they were usually disillusioned kids. The rebels were pretty intense, regardless. Even if they weren’t doing much, they took everything very seriously, and it was hard to sneak away and report back to my supervisors. They had us do a bunch of tests of loyalty, and if you failed you’d be punished. You had to be with them a hundred percent, or you weren’t with them at all.”

Talking about it brought the memories back. A year ago in Australia meant summer, even if it was a cold and bitter winter now in the northern hemisphere; he had worn tank tops and shorts and thongs back then, even though there was threat of scorpions in the desert bush. He’d sweated buckets even so. Somehow, the rebels had worn leather jackets and combat boots; Felix would have melted, but the leaders usually napped in the shade of the barn with a fan turned on high while he and the other newbies did tasks out in the sun. At night, they did their tests, and Felix wondered when he had gotten any sleep.

“I… this sounds really dumb, but I called myself _The Razor’s Edge_ since we were supposed to have codenames that sounded cool. They ran workshops and everything.”

Chan laughed. “Oh my god, seriously?” He translated the name for Changbin when he asked, and the two of them laughed at him for it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty corny, I know. Not as bad as some of the others; we had _Wicked Poison,_ and _Satan’s Favorite,_ and _The Dark Slumber._ Think of those what you will.”

“Still, don’t let Minho know about it. You’ll never hear the end of it,” Chan said.

“Oh, I know, CB97.”

“Oh, you’ve got _jokes_ now,” Chan cried. “Hurry up and change! We don’t have much time before the dinner party starts, and we cannot be late or Jihyo will actually disembowel me.”

“But I want to hear the end of the story,” Changbin whined.

“I got shot,” Felix said, pulling a beanie over his hair until only a few frizzy ends poked out. Chan handed him a black, cloth face mask, and he hooked it over his ears and brought it down under his chin. “That’s really it.”

_“What!_ By who, how, when,” Changbin said. “Was it _Satan’s Favorite?_ I bet it was _Satan’s Favorite.”_

“Come on, Bin, finish getting ready so we can get over there,” Chan said. “We’re on a time crunch, unless you’ve forgotten.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Changbin muttered, putting his own beanie and face mask on. “I still want to know, though. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

This mission was supposed to show how well Felix worked with everyone else in Stray Kids, but only Chan, Minho, Changbin, and Hyunjin were actually going to work with him. Changbin was his partner, meant to accompany him as they infiltrated the building; Minho was their get-away driver, and was supposed to keep tabs on the dinner party happening on the ground floor that all the officials were meant to attend; Hyunjin was their liaison for Sungjin and the rest of Day6; and Chan was going to monitor them with Twice and direct the two of them through their mission. He’d be the one to make the call to pull them out if things went wrong.

Felix and Changbin gave Chan the okay, and they drove in silence to the apartment building once more. They parked in the alley behind the building, and checked the comms, getting confirmations from Hyunjin and Minho.

Felix and Changbin got out of the car, empty backpacks over their shoulders and a small waist bag crossed over Felix’s body with the USB sticks and their adaptors shoved inside. Chan drove off, and the two of them climbed to the first landing of the fire escape, waiting for Minho to give them the okay to go in.

There happened to be a dinner party that night in the hall on the ground floor of the building. They didn’t know what it was supposed to be for, but everyone in the building was meant to be in attendance. Security was usually pretty tight, but all the guards would be in the kitchens and dining hall, and Sungjin had managed to turn off the window alarms on the top floor, where they’d set their entrance point.

The doors to the kitchen opened. A few burly guys stepped out, shining flashlights all over the alley and behind the few dumpsters. Felix and Changbin were still and silent above their heads, and waited until they went back inside to climb up the fire escape as quietly as they could.

Chan’s voice crackled over the comms. _“Minho, status on the party. Is everyone there?”_

_“Just about,”_ Minho said. _“No one’s sat down yet. I’ll let you know when they do, and you can set your watches then. Be patient. I will tell you when things happen.”_

They had planned to wait ten minutes after the dinner party started to infiltrate, just in case there were any stragglers. The two of them reached the top landing, and Felix peeked in the window, seeing if there was anything he could make a bee-line for. Time was of the essence in this mission, and he didn’t want to be caught off-guard if he could help it.

The window looked into a bedroom, and if all the rooms were as nice as this one, then Felix was going to forbid them from trashing the place. He didn’t want to inconvenience the cleaning crew — they were just doing their jobs, they didn’t have any real part in the Districts’ affairs. Felix could see a four-poster bed, a wooden dresser, and a couple bedside tables with tall lamps; there were a couple doors that were closed, probably to the front room of the suite and the bathroom. They probably shouldn’t waste any time in the bathrooms, which he whispered to Changbin.

_“They’re sitting down, set your watches,”_ Minho said. _“Let us know when you’re going in.”_

“Got it,” Felix said, watching Changbin set a timer on his watch. He didn’t have one himself, but that was fine.

Five minutes into their wait, Changbin leaned over and whispered, “This is the slowest ten minutes of my life. I just want to get in there and start already.”

“Mhm.” Felix felt the same way. He had been sitting around and relaxing for far too long. The urge to just get up and _go_ thrummed through him. Even if Jihyo and Sungjin didn’t make it easy for him, he had loved the debrief; it felt comfortable, as if he was settling into his skin again.

_“Please be patient,”_ Chan said over the comms. _“You won’t have to wait much longer.”_

Changbin made a face, and Felix knew he made one as well. They were quiet for the next five minutes. Finally, thank fuck, Changbin’s watch beeped at him. Felix wrapped his fist in some loose cloth he’d put into his backpack and punched the window, shattering the glass near the latch at the bottom. The two of them paused for a moment and waited for an alarm; when it didn’t come, Felix unlocked the window and pushed it open.

They crawled into the bedroom, stepping carefully over the broken glass on the floor. Felix unwrapped his fist and shook out the tiny shards that had gotten trapped in the fabric, tossing it out the window when he was done. Changbin peeked into the front room — each suite had a bedroom and a sort of drawing room — and pushed the door open fully when he saw that there was no one there.

Felix saw a phone charging on a bedside table and fumbled through his adaptors, silently cursing at the dimness of the room. “Remind me again why we’re not allowed to turn on the lights. I can barely see a thing.”

_“You don’t want people to find you, right?”_ Minho said. _“Turning on a light would broadcast your location to literally everyone down below. No one’s supposed to be in those rooms.”_

“Still.” Felix finally plugged in the adaptor and prompted the phone to begin the USB stick’s program. He moved into the drawing room, where Changbin had collected all the devices in the room and placed them on the desk; he stood by the door, gun at the ready.

_“You’re just going to have to deal with the darkness,”_ Chan said. _“Are you clear?”_

“You know what I love,” Changbin said, a wry smile on his lips.

“Making sausages?” Felix muttered. He was underprepared for the riot of laughter that erupted in his ear, or for the embarrassed sputtering from the door.

“No! Darkness! I love the darkness. _I love dark,”_ he said in English. “It’s my catchphrase! Don’t you remember? Come on, you know this.”

Felix gave him an unimpressed look. “Why would I know what your catchphrase is?”

An expression of confused despair crossed Changbin’s face for a brief moment, before they were both distracted by Chan’s voice in their ears. A short, authoritative _“guys, focus”_ had the comms settle down, and the two of them turned back to the task at hand.

“We’re clear so far,” Felix murmured. “In without a hitch, and seems like this floor is empty.” He worked with the tablets, going back to the bedroom to run the bricking program when the phone beeped.

_“Sungjin-hyung says good job so far, and that you can go a little faster; he has his guys working on parsing the information as it comes in,”_ Hyunjin said. _“Don’t worry about ejecting the USB sticks. Just take them out when the program is done and brick the devices.”_

“Right,” Felix said. He looked around for any notebooks while the program ran on the tablets Changbin had managed to find; as hiding places occurred to him, he ran back and forth between the drawing room and the bedroom, finding notebooks in coat pockets, journals in the drawers of the bedside tables, receipts in trash cans.

The tablets beeped at him, and he switched out the USBs for the red sticks and started the bricking program. There wasn’t much in the first room, and Felix signalled to Changbin to get ready to go to the next suite.

“While I’m running programs, try to look around for notebooks and things,” Felix whispered to Changbin. “It’s hard for me to do everything on my own.”

“Right,” Changbin whispered back. “Got the key?”

Felix took the blank white keycard from his waist bag. There was a little skull doodle sharpied onto one side, which Felix frowned at in distaste. They cracked the door to the suite open, and opened it fully when they were sure no one was there.

The next suite was much of the same. There was a laptop in the bedroom, and a daily planner on the sofa — apparently each of the suites was laid out the same, regardless if it was given to a guard, a secretary, or an official. Felix guessed that a secretary was staying in this room — it was pretty disorganized, so it didn’t belong to a bodyguard, but the daily planner and coffee shop receipts Changbin found in the trash can didn’t really convince him that this person was in charge of things.

The last suite looked like a bomb had gone off. There were clothes and papers everywhere, and a laptop whose screen still glowed brightly, illuminating the otherwise dark bedroom. Definitely an official — those sorts of people could afford to not care.

“This computer is still on,” Felix said, inserting the first USB. “Should I brick it? Can you see the light from where you are, Minho?”

_“I — ”_ Minho paused for a second. _“Ah. Top floor, right? To my left? Yeah, I can see it. Do you have a flashlight?”_

Felix cursed slightly. “No.”

_“Sungjin says to brick it anyway,”_ Hyunjin said. _“Computers go to sleep on their own if they’re left for long enough, so no one should be suspicious. Just be careful to not get between the light and the window. The priority is to not leave any trace of the first program — it’ll lead the Districts right to us.”_

“Got it.” Felix ran the first program, and looked through the rest of the room before determining that there was nothing on paper for them to steal.

There came a soft gasp from the front door. Felix immediately snapped his attention to the sound — there stood a young woman, her hair tied up, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. She had a nametag pinned to her shirt and a trolly next to her, stacked high with toilet paper and cleaning supplies. A cleaning lady — she must have taken the same opportunity they did, to sneak around in the rooms while everyone was gone.

He lunged for her, clapping a hand over her mouth as she opened it to scream. With a small sound, she collapsed to the floor; Felix followed, cushioning her fall. He held her tightly and stared into her wide, terrified eyes, and said, “Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Behind him, Changbin was telling the others what was happening. They were a concerned annoyance in his ear, but he tuned them out, focusing on the cleaning lady, who shook in fear. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from him.

“Hey. You’re fine. Look at me.” Felix squeezed her tighter, and arranged them so that she wasn’t too uncomfortable. _“Oi._ Is there anyone else here?”

She shook her head frantically.

“Are you sure? _Calm down._ Listen to me — nothing bad is going to happen to you. I know this is scary, but you’re going to be fine. We won’t hurt you. Do you hear me?”

She nodded, and he gave her a moment to stop shaking and take deep breaths.

“Give me the sticks, I’ll finish up with everything,” Changbin said, just as the laptop on the desk beeped at them. Felix gave the woman a stern glare, told her to keep quiet, and took his hand off of her mouth to fish out a few red USB sticks to pass to Changbin.

“What’s your name,” he whispered to the woman, trying to keep her calm.

“M–Minhee,” she whispered back.

“Minhee-ya, is there anyone else on this floor?”

“No. No,” she said, sniffing slightly. “It’s just me.”

He stared at her for a moment.

Felix didn’t often deal with civilians. Not on missions. It was strange, to interact with a world so far from his own and yet so close; Minhee lived such a different life that it was almost insane to think that they could ever meet, despite living on the same planet, in the same city. He was tainting her with his life, watching it bleed into her own… the terror, and the ever-present lack of control.

“Okay,” Felix said. “I believe you.”

“The programs are done,” Changbin called over. “Let’s get going to the next room.”

“Right,” Felix said. He brought Minhee to stand up, and led her to the bathroom. “I’m really sorry, but we can’t let you go just yet. You’ll be okay here until someone comes to find you. You’re going to be okay. Okay?”

Minhee nodded a bit frantically.

“Give me your key.”

She looked over Felix’s shoulder at the trolly. “I — I don’t have it on me. It’s on my cart.”

Felix raised an unimpressed eyebrow and opened a waiting palm. Deflating slightly, Minhee took her keycard out of the pocket of her jeans and gave it to Felix.

“Alright, let’s go,” Felix said to Changbin. He closed the door to the bathroom, and together, they dragged the wooden dresser in front of it, effectively locking her in. He did feel kind of bad, but told himself that she would be okay; they weren’t planning to blow up the building or anything, and someone would eventually come along to free her. Minhee probably wouldn’t even lose her job. Felix pushed the trolly into the drawing room, out of sight of the elevators.

They closed the door behind them and sighed in relief — that was the entire first floor done. Four more to go.

They took the stairs down to the next floor and started on the first suite. Felix found a phone laying on the desk and a tablet of a different brand in the desk drawer, and plugged the program into both.

_“Hey,”_ Hyunjin said. _“The iPad you just plugged into, does it have a case on it?”_

Felix tapped the prompt for the tablet to trust the device and flipped it over, looking at the tablet cover. “Mhm.”

_“Is the case red, with a flap to cover the screen?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Cool. Sungjin says holy shit and that you should definitely steal it. Do not brick. It belongs to one of our guys, and was stolen a couple months ago. Luckily the information isn’t super sensitive, and encrypted besides, but we want it back.”_

“Got it.” He unplugged the tablet from the USB and shoved it into his backpack between notebooks and journals — it was getting pretty full and heavy, and Felix wondered if they’d have time to go through everything and throw out information they didn’t need.

Just then, they heard footsteps in the hallway — high-heeled and quick. Felix and Changbin looked at each other for a moment, and ducked down to hide.

The door to the suite was still open. They needed the light that spilled in from the hallway, but it left them vulnerable if anyone peeked into the room. From their hiding spots (Changbin behind the dresser in the bedroom, and Felix behind the couch in the drawing room) they could just barely see each other, and they held eye contact as the footsteps stopped in front of their room.

“Yes — yes, I’m on my way!” came a woman’s voice speaking English, presumably on the phone from the way she paused to listen. “I just had to grab the contracts. Yes — ! Mr Houghton, I just need to grab the elevator and I’ll be right down. I’m _sorry_ I’m late, I — okay. Yes, okay. I’m sorry. Right. Good-bye.”

Changbin stared at Felix.

“Fucker,” the woman muttered. “Fat fucking bitch, I swear one of these days I’ll kill him…” She trailed off, and after a moment, stomped her foot. “God damn it, go _through,_ go through…!”

Felix stared at Changbin.

“Oh, thank fuck, finally,” the woman said with obvious relief. Finally, her footsteps resumed, and after a moment they heard the elevator button chirp. “Jesus Christ, this elevator is slow.”

The program on the laptop beeped.

All three of them seemed to hold their breath at the same moment.

The elevator dinged, and a smooth, controlled voice said, _“Fourth floor. Doors opening,”_ but nothing moved or otherwise made a sound.

_“Doors closing,”_ the elevator’s voice said.

“Hello?” the woman called out, finally. “A–annyeonghaseyo? Is anyone there?”

Changbin and Felix stared each other down.

Her footsteps approached, high heels on carpet, as she approached the open doorway. “Did Aidan forget to close his door…? I swear, that wank stain…”

Felix did not want to have to lock another woman in a bathroom. Especially this one — she had a phone, and people knew to expect her downstairs presently. Changbin motioned for him to duck down a little more, and Felix slowly crouched closer to the floor. His backpack tilted up towards his head, and he tensed, hoping it wouldn’t fall over.

Did he zip the thing up? If it tilted too far, would everything fall out?

He did not move a muscle.

The woman’s footsteps came a little closer, but she seemed hesitant, unwilling to venture too far into the room.

Felix held his breath. His backpack slipped further down his back.

“Dammit,” the woman muttered. “Fucking hell. If anyone’s in here, you better come out! I — I know muay thai. I’ll beat you cunts up.”

Or she could call up her bodyguard and have the two of them shot. Felix cursed Jihyo and Chan for not giving him a weapon. There wasn’t much he could do against someone with a gun, in all honesty, not when they had distance on him.

“Fuck it,” the woman muttered to herself. She turned away and hurried back over to the elevator, pressing the button hurriedly. “I’m not going to be in a fucking horror movie. Jesus fucking Christ.”

The elevator dinged, and the woman hurried in, pressing the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, and Changbin and Felix melted to the floor in relief.

“Shit, dude,” Changbin said. “Minho-hyung. Tell us if you see someone running late coming out of the elevators in a minute.”

_“Did someone see you?”_ Chan demanded.

“No, she was just running late,” Changbin said. “I want to make sure she’s not still lingering up here. And wanted to give you a heads-up so you don’t freak out about it.”

_“Right,”_ Minho mumbled. The two of them waited in place until he said, _“Yep, here she is. Poor woman looks frazzled.”_

_“Tsk, tsk, sympathy for the enemy,”_ Chan said.

_“Excuse your entire self. This whole thing is because you looked at some guy who knows how to behead someone with his bare hands and decided he was shaped like a friend. Anyway, she’s at the party now. Talking to some old dude in — is that a plaid suit? Jeez. He’s ignoring the hell out of her, though.”_

As Minho talked, Felix finished up with the laptop, giving the rest of the room a precursory search before deciding to move on. That encounter was much too close for comfort, and he wanted to get through this floor before anyone got antsy enough to check on the room.

“Let’s go,” Felix called over to Changbin. “We need to get through this floor before anyone gets it in their head to check.”

“Right,” Changbin said, but he seemed distracted.

Felix honestly didn’t have time for doubts, and he knew Changbin knew that as well, so before he swiped the skeleton key over the next suite’s lock, he fixed Changbin with a firm stare. “Don’t think about what might happen. Focus on what we’re doing. So far, our plan has worked, but we need to be quick and smart about it if we’re going to make it out of here without further incident. Are you going to be okay?”

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other. Finally Changbin nodded.

“Alright. Let’s rush through this floor and get out as soon as possible. Focus. Do good. There are no other options.”

“Right,” Changbin murmured, and Felix let his words linger for a moment longer, hoping they would truly set in, before swiping the skeleton key and entering the room.

This room was crowded and messy as well, clothes and papers strewn all over. They couldn’t fit all of the papers into their backpacks, so they bundled them up into pillowcases as best they could while the program ran on a laptop and threw them out the window. Luckily this room faced the back alley; they’d pick up whatever they threw out when they left.

They were just about done with the last room — a sparse one, with only two phones and no pieces of paper — when Minho said, _“A bodyguard just left. Only one; he’s headed to the elevators, but I don’t know which floor. Go hide in the stairwell.”_

“Got it,” Felix said. He ran the second program on both phones, very glad that this program worked quickly, and ushered Changbin out of the suite, closing the door behind them. They passed the elevator on their way to the stairs, and just barely made it when the elevator’s voice said, _“Fourth floor. Doors opening.”_

“Shit, that was close,” Changbin breathed. Felix shushed him, and the two of them snuck down to the third floor, careful to not step too loudly in case the guard could hear them.

They worked through the first room without any problems, finding a phone and a tablet along with a day planner. Changbin went through their backpacks and asked the others if there was anything they definitely didn’t need — their bags were getting pretty full and they wanted to prioritize important information.

Felix waited impatiently for the second program to work, and yanked the red USB sticks out as soon as the screens went dark. “Alright, let’s go.”

In the hallway was a man with a gun.

Felix and Changbin ducked back into the room they had just come out of, but it was too late — the bodyguard had already seen them. Felix pulled his facemask up over his nose and his beanie low.

“Oi!” the man shouted in English. “I saw you, come out with your hands up! I’m not fucking around!”

Felix dropped his backpack to the floor and raised his hands, prompting Changbin to do the same with wide eyes. They stepped out of the room cautiously, and the man gasped.

“Oh my god, Daria was right,” he muttered. “Keep — keep those hands up! This gun is loaded!”

Felix fought the urge to roll his eyes. This man had no idea what he was doing. They’d give out weapons to any idiot these days, really; he was pointing the gun at the two of them, but it wavered so much that Felix probably wouldn’t even have to move if it was fired.

“G-get on the floor, hands behind your heads,” the man said. “Do it!”

Felix glanced at Changbin, who seemed more than a little lost. “He says to get on the floor.”

_“Guys? Are you compromised?”_ Chan said over the comms.

“We’re fine, just give us a minute,” Felix said.

“Hey! Don’t talk,” the man said. “Just do what I tell you.”

Felix shrugged at Changbin, and the two of them went to their knees. Felix remained very unimpressed, especially as the bodyguard lowered his gun and got closer to them.

“You’re those bastards,” he said. “That kidnapped our _guy._ Aren’t you?”

Felix didn’t know whether or not to be cheered at the fact that the Districts still thought he was alive. His mind went through all the reasons why this terrible guard might know of him and his kidnapping; perhaps the Districts were getting a little desperate to wipe out these insurgents, and were willing to let more people know about this embarrassing little secret.

The man reached out and yanked down Changbin’s mask; when he did the same to Felix, however, he gasped and stepped back.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “It’s actually you.”

Felix felt his jaw clench from the sudden tension. “You know me?”

“Lee Yongbok,” the man said, with more than a little awe in his voice. “Of — of course! Oh my god, it’s actually me that found you.” He let out a helpless little laugh. “What — what are you doing here? Are you — you’re not working with _them,_ are you?”

He gestured with his gun at Changbin, and Felix watched it with narrowed eyes. “What do you think.”

“God, no, you would never,” the guard said with obvious relief. “But — then why are you here? What happened? Are you… under duress, or something…?”

_“Felix,”_ Chan said in his ear, in English as well. _“Don’t pay attention to him. Just get out of there.”_

“If you need help… I can help you get out of there. You must be under a lot of stress, right…? And scared…?” He tucked his gun away, and held out a hand to Felix. “Come with me and everything will go back to normal. Everyone wants you back with us… we’ve been so scared for you… you can come back _home.”_

_“Felix,”_ Chan said. That was all, but the urgency was apparent in his voice.

Felix was silent for a long, long moment.

“Come with me,” the guard said.

“Felix,” Changbin whispered. “What is he saying?”

“Come back home.”

“Felix?”

“Just take care of this guy and everything will go back to normal.”

Without letting himself think, Felix pulled Changbin’s gun from his holster and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! everyone, thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> i can't believe this fic has 300 kudos and 5k hits, oh my goodness, that is incredible!! i'm so lucky to have such amazing readers, thank you all so much for everything. i actually have really good news to share!! this past week i was accepted into my college's creative writing thesis program!! this is huge news, instead of writing a dissertation i'll be writing a piece of fiction for my graduating thesis!! i'm so proud of myself, the program is highly selective and only 12 people (!!) got in. i just wanted to share with you guys, thank you all so much for coming along with me as i write lonely reaper, it's because of this fic that i was confident enough in myself and my abilities to apply to the program!! you guys are amazing, thank you so, so much, always. <3 <3
> 
> (EDIT 27/12: ok i know it's a bit late to say but i won't be able to update today, a lot has been going on and this chapter is far from finished. hopefully next week or the week after i'll have something for you guys!! thank you so much for your patience <3 i'll see you soon!!)


	13. I Sometimes Wish I'd Never Been Born At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i'm so sorry (^^;;)

The nameless District operative fell to the ground with a clean hole in the center of his forehead. Changbin was completely still and silent behind him.

There was silence over the comms. Felix got up from where they had been crouched and stepped over the body, waving Sungjin’s skeleton key over the next door and opening it. There was no time to waste, now that people knew they were here.

_“Changbin?”_ came Chan’s shaky voice over the comms. _“Are you there? Answer me. Please.”_

“I — I’m fine.” Changbin’s words echoed from the hallway and in the earpiece, half a second later. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

_“Oh thank god, Binnie,”_ Chan said, all in a rush. _“I thought — ”_

“I know,” Changbin whispered. Their earpieces were then filled with the sounds of the rest of their team expressing their relief of Changbin’s safety. Felix fished a blue USB stick out of his bag and plugged into the laptop sitting on the desk in the front room, and quickly looked through the couch cushions and desk drawers for any phones or tablets. He found a hardbound journal on the side table next to the couch, and put it in his pack without bothering to look through it. He assumed that this room had been given to a secretary — it was messier than a bodyguard’s room, but without the expensive items laying about that a well-paid official would be careless about. Even the computer was a few years old, and Felix felt a little bad about bricking it.

_“Felix? You alright?”_ came Chan’s voice again.

“Fine.” Felix went into the bedroom next, and found a phone charging on the bedside table. He fumbled through his adaptors for the correct port and connected another blue USB stick to it, uncaring about the low charge. In the front room, the laptop beeped at him.

_“What happened to not firing a shot, huh,”_ Chan said, with a weak chuckle. Felix didn’t deign him a response, instead finishing up with the USB sticks and fishing through the luggage and hung-up clothes in the closet for anything else. He found a small datebook in a handbag, and a tiny spiral-bound notebook with quickly jotted down notes in a well-used overcoat’s pocket. _“Felix? You still there?”_

“Mhm.”

_“Are you mad?”_

“Please stop assuming I’m mad,” Felix muttered, giving the room one last sweep before exiting. “I’m focusing on my job.”

_“Right.”_

_“There’s movement downstairs,”_ Minho said. _“Five or six tough-looking guys just left the dining hall and are headed to the elevators.”_

“Great,” Changbin muttered. “Can I have the gun back now, please?”

Felix passed it to him as he went to the last room on the floor, the one that looked onto the back alley. Changbin posted himself up in front of the elevators, and hissed at Felix to hurry as he went through the last room. There were more than a few computers here — if Felix didn’t know any better, he’d think some I.T. squad had set up shop, but this was supposed to be the actual official’s room. There almost weren’t enough USB sticks to plug into all of the computers — and there were actual computers this time, not just laptops. Hopefully the red USB stick would still brick them.

Some of them looked really cool — they had clear frames, or didn’t have completely enclosed frames at all. Blue cooling liquid ran in tubes around the fans, and in some places, there were glowing rainbow lights.

_“Whatever Felix just plugged into is sending Sungjin-hyung and the rest of the Day6 unit into conniptions,”_ Hyunjin announced. _“He says the program will take a little longer to run than usual, and that you should definitely just straight-up steal any tablets and phones you see.”_

“How long?” Felix asked.

_“Ten minutes?”_

_“The dinner’s wrapping up,”_ Minho reported.

_“Finish this room, and get the hell out of there,”_ Chan said. _“If you make a fuss about there still being two more floors left, I’ll hurt you myself. Got it?”_

“Yep,” Felix said. He took his time going through the room — there were a couple tablets in a briefcase tucked between the desk and the wall, and some fancy electronic device he didn’t recognize inside a desk drawer. Hopefully it wouldn’t fuck them up if he took it. Didn’t look like a bomb or anything, so.

In the bedroom, there was a notebook lying on a bedside table, and more computer equipment in a box next to the dresser. There was too much for him to fit into his bag, so he called to Changbin to come and give him his backpack. They were shoving equipment in together when the elevator in the hallway dinged.

The two of them froze for a split second, and Felix sprinted to the bedroom door to silently close and lock it. It wasn’t the sturdiest of doors, so Felix didn’t expect much time, but you couldn’t see it from the hallway and all the rest of the suite doors in the hallway were open anyway.

“They’re here,” he whispered into the comms.

_“Already?”_ Hyunjin muttered.

_“Shit, for real?”_ Chan said. _“Okay. Hurry up with what you’re doing and get out. I don’t want to risk you guys getting hurt.”_

There came some shouting from the hallway — probably them discovering the body Felix had shot. Things like _“they must still be here”_ and _“don’t let them get away”_ were yelled quite loudly.

_“Looks like they called for backup,”_ Minho said blithely. _“The dinner’s definitely done — half of the guards are getting the fancy people out, and the other half are on their way to the elevators and the stairs.”_

_“Sungjin-hyung says you absolutely cannot let these people get their hands on his first program,”_ Hyunjin said, partially speaking over Minho. _“You don’t have time to run the second program, so just smash the computers. Don’t worry about the monitors — just the actual computing devices. Or, if you can fit them, put one or two into your bags.”_

“You should have let us bring the duffel bags,” Changbin hissed.

_“Too big and bulky,”_ Chan said dismissively.

_“Get rid of inconsequential things and put the computers in your bags, he says,”_ Hyunjin reported.

_“Or jump out the window while just straight-up holding onto them,”_ Minho suggested. _“I’m bringing up the car to your position. Which room are you in?”_

“Bedroom, last suite,” Felix said. “Western-most. Changbin, wrap the box in blankets and comforters and throw it out the window. I’ll get the USB sticks back — focus on finding notebooks in coat pockets, letters between the pages of books inside the luggage, receipts in the trash can, whatever you can. Okay?”

“Right,” Changbin said. He knew there was no time to argue, and Felix appreciated that about him. “Take the weapons. We know the bodyguards each have at least one gun, and I don’t want you to go out there weaponless. Give me your bag so I can empty it.”

They traded quickly. Felix secured the knife sheathes around his wrists, and shoved the spare clips for the handgun in his pockets. He pulled his beanie down around his ears and brought his mask up over his nose again, hoping that it would hide his identity enough for people to assume he was just a burglar. The empty bag felt strange on his shoulders, as if they expected the weight from earlier.

He pushed the door open slightly, very carefully in an attempt to not make a sound. There was one man in the room, sweeping the area with a light attached to the barrel of his gun; Felix held his breath and waited for the man to turn his back to him before he quietly slipped out of the bedroom. He approached from behind, slipped a hand over the man’s mouth to muffle his noise of surprise, and slit his throat.

For the sake of keeping quiet, Felix gently placed the body on the floor. He rushed over to the front door of the suite and silently closed it, careful to not let the lock click in the doorframe. Luckily there was no one in the hallway to notice.

He ran over to the computers, yanking the USB sticks out and putting them back in his waist bag. A few of the computers looked too bulky, but he didn’t want to leave anything behind. He had to be smart about what he took, but if these were as valuable as Hyunjin said, then he’d compromise.

With only a little bit of struggle, he managed to fit most of the computers into his backpack, and ended up carrying the last one as Minho had suggested. In the bedroom, Changbin had managed to toss out the box of computers, and was on his way out on the fire escape when Felix tossed him his backpack and the last computer. With a small _oof,_ Changbin caught the bag and computer, and quickly scrambled down the fire escape to Minho’s car down below, where he was packing as many things they’d thrown out into the trunk and back seat as he could.

“Should I smash the monitors? I got the actual computers,” Felix hissed into the comms.

Hyunjin was silent for a moment, then returned, _“Maybe? I don’t know. Just to be safe. Status on the guards?”_

Felix glanced at the door he’d locked. There had been some consistent pounding on it for a minute now. It seemed as if the people on the other side had noticed it was locked, and that their operative was on the other side, totally silent. The body was still softly bleeding onto the floor.

“It’s fine,” Felix said. “I have time.”

He tossed the monitors to the floor and jumped on them, satisfied when they gave him the blue screen of death. Once he was done, he registered that the banging on the door had stopped. His head snapped to the door instantly — just in time to see them break it down and storm into the room, guns raised.

_Shit._ Felix ducked immediately, drawing his own gun and firing indiscriminately. Without checking to see if he had hit anything, he withdrew to the bedroom, locking the door behind him and bolting to the fire escape.

Bullets bit through the thin wood of the door. Most of them whizzed around Felix, as the operatives had to shoot blind, but one grazed his side — a lucky shot that made pain lance through him. He stumbled slightly and made a pained noise, realizing then that his comms were going insane, everyone asking his position, his health, everything.

“‘M fine,” Felix grunted. “On my way, be ready to go — ”

_“We’re fine, just get down here,”_ Minho shouted at him. Felix winced at the volume, but picked himself up and crawled out the window onto the fire escape. The car was lingering in the alley below, headlights flicking on the far wall.

From inside the bedroom came pounding on the door once more. With how thin the door was, Felix decided that it would take them no time at all to break through. Without a second thought, he slung himself over the railing of the fire escape and fell into the dumpster below.

There were enough bags filled with trash to break his fall, and he scrambled out as quickly as he could. His new wound reminded him of its presence whenever he extended his left arm too far, but he managed to get out and into the backseat of Minho’s car with little trouble.

At once, Minho reversed out of the alley, sliding onto the street with a tremendous screech of tires and a jostling that made Felix’s injury flare up in pain.

“Buckle up,” Minho told him, glancing in the rearview mirror at him. Then he did a double-take. “Are you _bleeding?”_

Felix grimaced, ripping his in-ear out. Half for the annoying echo, half for the incoming wave of concern that would do nothing to help him.

“Felix, what happened?” Minho said.

“G-grazed,” Felix said, cursing his involuntary stutter. He scrounged around for a spare piece of fabric to press against the wound. Though he wasn’t exactly about to bleed out and die, he didn’t really want to get blood all over the backseat of the car.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Just go,” Felix said, very aware that Minho had just _stopped_ in the middle of the street right in front of the building filled with heavily armed operatives they had just robbed. Minho just blinked at him, his mouth hanging open. “Minho! _Go!”_ he shouted — it came out deep and dark and threatening. Two sets of wide eyes stared at him suffering in the back seat.

“R-right,” Minho said, and re-focused on the road. “Bin, there’s a first-aid kit in the glovebox. Pass Felix the gauze and disinfect.”

Felix waited for the supplies, becoming more aware of Changbin’s own shocked face. Changbin had gone pale, and passed Felix the gauze, a bottle of disinfect, tweezers, and a few cotton balls. “Are you okay? Really,” he said.

“I’m fine, it’s not that bad,” Felix said, though a bump in the road had him biting back a wince, his eyes rolling back in his head. “After this I’m going the fuck to sleep.”

“What happened?”

Felix rolled up his shirt, pinning it under his armpit so it wouldn’t fall on his hands as he was working. He held a cotton ball with the long tweezers and dipped it into the disinfect, and started dabbing at his bloody skin, cleaning his wound to the best of his ability. “Some guys shot through the bedroom door while I was getting away. One of them got lucky, I guess.” He gently tapped the cotton ball against the graze, wincing when the sting spread through his side.

Changbin sat up again, satisfied with the answer, and Felix discarded the used-up cotton ball on one of the bags next to him in the backseat — he was crowded in by computers and bags, very cozy — and dunked a fresh one into the disinfect. With silence reigning in the car for a moment, he began to gently scrape some of the clotting blood from his wound.

Minho spun the car in a very sudden turn, making Felix lose his balance. He fell directly on the cotton ball soaked in disinfect and clenched his teeth around a pained scream.

“Oh my god, holy shit I’m so sorry,” Minho gasped, twisting back to see Felix in the backseat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine,”_ Felix grit out, leaning back onto the backseat and letting himself take a small break. “Stop asking.”

“You screamed,” Minho said, though his voice was very small.

“That’s what happens when a bunch of alcohol gets on an open wound,” Felix snapped back. “I’m fine. Really. Just drive.”

“We’re close to losing them,” Minho said. “There’s a major road around the corner we can lose them on, then it’s a straight shot to a bridge to the south side. We’ll be fine.”

“Great,” Felix said, paying little attention to Minho’s words. He was less gentle with the disinfect, gritting his teeth around the sting as he managed to clean the wound of all but the freshest ooze of blood. He unwrapped the gauze, pressing a pad to the wound and winding the rest around his torso as tight as he could manage.

With a great sigh, he collapsed into a vaguely pained lump in the backseat. He held himself steady as Minho wove through the streets, the late-night traffic and dirtied license plate helping disguise their nondescript car as they gradually lost the last of their pursuers.

The soft noise of the car, and the glittering lights of the city beyond, lulled Felix into a wary calmness. Once Changbin passed him some ibuprofen, the pain in his side sank into a low throb.

He made himself comfortable and fell into a light doze.

* * *

“Hey,” a voice said, shaking his shoulder slightly. “Felix.”

Felix was awake in an instant, his heart pounding in his chest. He seized the wrist of the hand that had jostled him awake, and as he became more aware of his surroundings, stared wide-eyed and wild at Minho’s inscrutable expression. Feeling a little sheepish, he let go of Minho’s wrist and rubbed at his face.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” Minho asked, sliding into the backseat next to Felix. “You were passed out for about an hour. We thought it was best to let you sleep.”

“Good,” Felix said. He shuffled over to make room for Minho, realizing that the bags and computers that had squished him into the backseat were gone. He looked around and saw that they had parked on an industrial section on the riverbank, surrounded by warehouses abandoned late at night, lit by blindingly bright streetlights, few and far between, with pools of darkness lurking just beyond. “Where are we?”

“Sungjin-hyung’s brought his crew over, they’re going through the computers you got,” Minho told him. “We can’t bring them home in case someone tries to track them, so here we are. Changbin and Hyunjin are helping organize the papers you got. Do you think you’re up to help them?”

Felix saw that one of the warehouse doors was open, white light spilling out and mixing with the white light of the street lamps. He guessed that that was where the others were.

He rolled up his shirt and checked the gauze. It was still clear of blood, which was a good sign.

“Yeah, I think so,” he mumbled. “I’m kind of tired, though…”

“You don’t have to go,” Minho said, his voice gentle. “Changbin’s holding his own in there. You can just go back to sleep.”

Felix was too tired to argue. As the adrenalin left his system, he felt like he was lagging slightly, cotton balls filling his head and muscles and making everything about him feel sluggish.

“Mmyeah,” Felix mumbled, even more incoherent than before. “‘M not gonna die, or bleed out ‘r anything, but… I just want to sleep.”

His eyes fell shut. He felt Minho try to help him get comfortable, but he largely ignored his efforts. He kicked his shoes off and brought his knees to his chest, perched on the edge of the seat, and leaned into Minho’s side.

“G’night, hyung,” Felix mumbled.

He felt Minho stiffen under him, but forgot it all as he drifted off once more.

* * *

The next time he woke, it was to a sudden, sharp pressure on his wound. Felix gasped and, without opening his eyes, moved the offending weight away. His hand was met with the distinct fur of a cat.

With a small grumble, he gathered the cat — who had stepped on him curiously, and was getting ready to loaf directly on his wound — and brought him up to his chest. The cat settled comfortably on this new spot, and purred deeply as it rested.

Felix kept a hand on the small, warm body, and dozed a little as he became slowly aware of his surroundings. Without opening his eyes, he could feel that he was on a lumpy couch, his head propped up against one armrest and his feet pressed up against the other. A blanket had been placed on him sometime as he slept, seemingly knitted or crocheted, and his beanie and mask had been removed, as had his shoes, though he had a little shawl wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm.

The faint sounds of breakfast being prepared reached him. He could hear something in a pan sizzling — rashers, bacon, or sausages, most likely — and dishes clinking gently in a sink with water rushing over them. Several people were talking and laughing, masculine and feminine alike, feeling homey and natural and warm.

Felix took a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and released it through his mouth by a thin stream that made the cat on his chest mrrp at him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, giving him a consolation pet. Or two, or seven.

He opened his eyes to Jihyo’s living room. Sunlight poured in through the windows overlooking the backyard, and around the corner, the kitchen’s light spilled into the hallway connecting the two rooms.

He looked around. There was so much clutter in this house — it seemed he would never get used to it. Like in the Stray Kids apartment, there was a bookcase stretching along the wall, filled with all sorts of mismatched books in Korean, Japanese, and Chinese. There might have been other languages, but Felix couldn’t see well enough to make sure.

Cat toys were scattered around the floor, as well as a couple boxes for Pepper to hang out in. A miniature version of the couch Felix was sleeping on was placed by the big version, and had copious amounts of cat hair on it, so Felix assumed it was well used. A drying rack and box of clothespins were by the glass door leading to the backyard and patio, and beyond, there was a tall cabinet filled with various tchotchkes that glittered in the early morning light. An analog clock over the door to the hallway told him it was about 8:35 in the morning.

Felix closed his eyes again and let himself rest a minute longer. His wound still throbbed with pain. There was no ibuprofen nearby, and he didn’t want to needlessly suffer as he got up and winced his way to the kitchen.

“Psst,” Felix hissed, patting Pepper slightly. He opened his eyes and blinked at Felix in a curious, cat kind of way, but didn’t seem incredibly interested in what Felix had to say. “Are you willing to be a double agent for me?”

Pepper kneaded his paws over Felix’s chest.

“Go to the kitchen and tell them I’m awake,” he said. “Ask them to bring me ibuprofen, too.”

As he had expected, Pepper ignored his words. With a sigh, Felix lifted the cat from his chest, ignoring his piteous meows and mrrps as he looked to Felix with sad confusion.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Felix said, setting him down on the floor next to the couch. It pulled on his wound slightly, and he winced, falling back with a laboured sigh. Pepper looked like he was going to jump on Felix again, so Felix felt around for a toy on the floor to distract him. He found a shiny bow thing under the couch that seemed pretty well loved, and waved it in front of Pepper’s face. Luckily, Pepper was suitably distracted, following the bow with his eyes and wiggling around to get ready to pounce.

Felix threw the bow down the hallway, and Pepper chased after it, crashing into just about everything he could on his way. He tousled with it, batting it further down the hallway until he was in view of the kitchen.

“Oh, Pepper!” came a voice, cutting above the other murmured conversations. One of the women from earlier — Nayeon, he presumed, though he couldn’t really tell from the distance — came out and picked up Pepper, who readily pressed his face against her chin. “Hello, baby, what are you doing here? Hm? What’s my little baby doing playing all by himself in the hallway?”

Felix melted into the couch, tired from his small burst of play with Pepper. He sighed, hopefully loud enough for Nayeon to hear him.

“What’s your toy… thing… doing here?… Jeongyeon, are you still letting him play with that bow?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes at a comment thrown at her from the kitchen, and bent down to pick up the bow. As she did so, her eyes fell on Felix, who was still resting on the couch.

The two of them sighed in unison. Felix watched her as she walked over, tossing the bow somewhere in the room; Pepper squirmed in her arms until she let him go, and he scampered off to chase after it again.

“You’re awake,” Nayeon said, standing above Felix.

Felix found it difficult to meet her eyes, but forced himself to do so. “Good morning.”

“I’ll get your boys,” she said. “We’re making breakfast, if you want any. American-style pancakes and bacon. Sana made a fruit salad as well, so we’re not totally unhealthy.”

“I can’t get up,” he said softly.

“Because of the…?” She gestured at his stomach, which was still covered by the blanket.

“Yeah. Uh — yes.”

“I’ll bring you some pain killers and water,” she said. “Don’t strain yourself or anything. If Pepper is being a bother, just tell him to piss off.”

“Thank you,” Felix said, and watched her go. She was met by a few murmured questions in the kitchen, which she laughed at, and came back with Chan and Minho in tow.

“Here,” she said, placing the water and pills on a tray next to the couch. The other two dragged over a couple chairs and settled around him.

“Thank you,” Felix said again.

“I’ll have Chae bring out some breakfast for you, if you still can’t get up by the time we start cleaning up,” Nayeon announced. “Guests will arrive by ten, so it’ll be good if you’re ready by then.”

“Thanks, noona,” Chan said to her, giving her a blindingly brilliant smile. She scrunched her nose at him and pinched his cheek, and left the three of them alone.

Chan turned to him with a mischievous smile. Felix felt his face morph into a disgusted grimace.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Chan said, in chipper English. “How’s it feel getting shot?”

Felix groaned and dramatically slung an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light. “Fucking sucks.”

Chan laughed at that. “Take the pills then, hopefully they’ll kick in so you can take a shower before everyone arrives.”

Felix grumbled wordlessly. Minho helped him sit up a little better on the couch, and he swallowed back the pills all at once, even though they were huge. “What’s today?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you there would be an interview after your mission,” Chan said. “We’ve got to know if we can trust you, as a whole.”

Felix mulled that over for a minute. “I did get shot for you.”

“So you did,” Chan said. He tried very hard to smile, but what was on his face was more of a grimace. “Don’t do that again though, okay?”

“I didn’t get shot on _purpose,”_ Felix grumbled.

“Still,” Chan said.

The three of them sat in silence for a little while. Their conversation had been in English, which accidentally froze Minho out, so Felix felt a little bad. In Korean, he asked, “Can you help me sit up?”

At once, Minho jumped at the chance. He helped Felix slide up the back of the couch until he was comfortable, and watched Felix get steadily paler as his wound throbbed. They checked his bandages; they were spotted with some reddish-brown blood, but nothing recent. Still, it should probably be changed.

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said, his previous amusement returning. “I can’t believe you called Minho _hyung.”_

Felix froze, rifling through his memories of last night until he hit upon his tired _“g’night, hyung”_ and groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I’m so — ”

“Oh no, you don’t get to take that back, I’m your hyung now,” Minho said, a wicked grin on his face as he reached out to pinch Felix’s cheek.

“I was tired, it just slipped out,” Felix muttered, feeling rather morose.

“It was an expression of your true feelings, I understand. Don’t worry, hyungie will take care of you from now on.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” Chan muttered, shoving Minho slightly. The two of them bickered light-heartedly as Felix felt the pain in his side ebb away.

Chaeyoung came in a few minutes into their argument, carrying a plate stacked with a few pancakes and several berries. “Here we are,” she said, placing the plate on his lap. “Do not _fucking_ spill. I spent four months making that blanket. Do you want any coffee?”

“Yes please,” Felix said, giving her eyes as big as the moon.

“You’ve got to promise not to spill,” Chaeyoung said. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise not to spill,” Felix said. She gave him a stern look of warning and went off to get a mug.

“He likes a lot of sugar,” Chan called after her. She flipped him off, and Felix reached out to smack the closest body part he could reach, which ended up being his calf. Chan laughed at the both of them.

“After this, we’ll take you to get a shower,” Minho announced, as Felix dug into the pancakes. They were fluffy, and crispy around the edges, and very, very good. “You fell into a literal dumpster. Hence, you smell like a literal dumpster.”

“Do I really smell that bad?” Felix sniffed his shirt — the same one he had worn last night, gross — and grimaced. “Jesus Christ, how can you stand me.”

“It’s difficult at the best of times,” Minho said cheerily. “However, you’re my dongsaeng now, so I have a sacred responsibility — ”

“We brought you a change of clothes,” Chan said, ignoring Minho’s rambling to speak to Felix. “A lot of important people are going to be here, so it’s best to dress up.”

“Hrm,” Felix said, around a mouthful of pancake.

Chan told him a little more about the people he was going to meet, but Felix was once again focused on the food in front of him. Chaeyoung dropped by to give him his coffee, at which point Chan gave up on his explanation, turning instead to entertain Pepper with Minho.

After Felix was done eating, Chan dragged him up to the bathroom to shower. It was just as cluttered as the rest of the house — as the only bathroom for nine girls, Felix could hardly find an empty spot on the counter. There was a small cabinet squished between the towel rack and the door with a small empty space squished next to some folded hand towels, which he decided he could live with. The shower stall itself was crowded with different shampoo and conditioner bottles, some for volume and others for bleach-blonde protection; there were loofahs and exfoliation stones in every crevice, and body washes in a million different scents (bubble gum, strawberry birthday cake, fir wood and musk, and the Victoria Secret scent, among others). There was a fancy body scrub set tucked away into the corner, three red containers with golden sparkles that advertised a scent of gold and pine, as if gold had a smell.

He was given a travel bar of soap and told that he could use any of the shampoos, but none of the body washes. From the soap dish attached to the pole for the shower head, a small rubber duck watched him carefully avoid his wound as he thoroughly scrubbed himself clean.

Once he was clean and dry and dressed (black pants and a silky button-down shirt that definitely didn’t belong to him), he poked around the bathroom a little while longer, trying to avoid the inevitable. There were a couple cheap spray perfumes — the one he tried was labelled “grapefruit” but smelled like kiddie breakfast cereal — and boxes full of q-tips and cotton balls and makeup removers and toothpaste all over. A hand towel that was put over the cabinet door under the sink had embroidered strawberries along the edge. Cute.

Eventually there came a knock at the door. “Felix? You alright in there?”

Felix glanced over, heeding Chan’s words. “I’ll be right out.”

He looked at himself in the mirror. Only for a second; just to take stock in himself. His face was pale and grey; the dark circles under his eyes stood stark and pronounced, as did his freckles. The scar was getting old — it was pale, and the inflammation had gone down enough that it was barely noticeable. The nick in his lip pulled the edges of his lip up slightly. It gave him a permanent sneer. Great.

With this done, he turned away. He couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror for very long — it made him nervous, for some reason.

He joined Chan outside the bathroom, and was led back downstairs to the living room, where they re-wrapped his wound, then to stand and wait by the front hall with Chan, Jihyo, and Nayeon to greet their guests. Felix felt very much like a kid at an adult’s party. There to look pretty and be discussed.

Chan briefed him (kind of, sort of) before anyone came. “Would you actually listen to me this time, it’s _important._ You know Jihyo and the rest of the Twice subunit — they’re our de facto leaders, and manage the rest of us. There are two major subsections of District Nine — those of us who run missions in an attempt to destabilize and overthrow the government, and the other half, who keep art and music alive through live performances. A lot of us — most of the people in our organization, actually — used to be idols, musicians, or trainees at entertainment companies.”

Felix felt his eyebrows raise. His judgement of this organization increased exponentially. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Chan gave him a stern look. “That doesn’t mean we’re not capable, you know. We can be into music and still kick ass.”

“No, I’m sure,” Felix said, though it was hard to not see everyone in a different light. “So that’s how you know each other? Through your… entertainment companies?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Chan said, pinching Felix absent-mindedly, as if it was some form of affection. “I’m not entirely sure who’s going to show up today, but I don’t expect many people from the performance half. We’re also going to hold the vote today.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “A _vote?_ What does that mean?”

“I submitted a motion a few weeks or so ago to officially welcome you into the organization. Based off of your mission yesterday, and the interview today, everyone that shows up will vote to let you in or not.”

“The interview is seriously that important?” Felix put his head in his hands and groaned. “But I’ve been _shot.”_

“Bummer,” Chan said with a little shrug. “Do your best, fighting!”

Felix grumbled slightly, but the first people were arriving so he shut up. The other Stray Kids members lingered behind the four of them at the front door; apparently, they all had been hiding in the kitchen as Felix languished on the couch, but were dragged along to say hello to everyone.

They all greeted Sungjin and a few other people that came with him, including Brian. Sungjin only nodded at Felix and said something about being glad to see him up; Brian beamed brightly at him and ruffled his hair when Felix greeted him with, “Hello, Youngk, it’s good to see you again.” As the group shuffled in, they all greeted the others with enthusiastic hugs, especially Seungmin, who led them to the kitchen where the rest of Twice was lying in wait to distribute coffee and pastries.

“That’s Even of Day, or Day6,” Chan whispered into Felix’s ear. “They work intel for us, and develop hardware and software for missions. And I know you know, but it doesn’t hurt to have a refresher.”

Felix was actually grateful for the reminder; a lot of information had been thrown at him yesterday, and he had trouble remembering all of it. The next group to arrive had Chan mutter a little “Huh,” under his breath. Felix didn’t know why — he remembered their leader from yesterday, Kim Namjoon, with silver hair and tinted sunglasses. Like yesterday, he wore a fancy suit, and most of the other people behind him wore incredibly expensive-looking suits as well, except for one other man, who wore the fluffiest (and, again, most expensive-looking) sweater Felix had ever seen in his life.

“Why did you say _huh,”_ Felix whispered to Chan as the group shuffled past them. Namjoon gave him a knowing smile which Felix did not return.

“This is BTS,” Chan said. “They work more with the performance side of things — writing new music, and distributing CDs and MP3 players. I didn’t think they’d be here today.”

“Namjoon was here yesterday, though,” Felix said.

“I know,” Chan said. “Not everything is about you, Felix, he was just there to talk with Momo and Jihyo about things.”

“But he was at the briefing.”

“Everyone in the house was at that briefing.” Felix gave him an incredulous look, but Chan rolled his eyes and nudged him with his hip. “Don’t worry about it. Look sharp — the girls are coming.”

Four women were walking up to them, each dressed to the absolute nines without regards to the frigid weather. Felix was surprised to see everyone else straighten up and fix themselves subtly; Jihyo and Nayeon picked lint off of each other’s sweaters and patted their hair down, and Chan smoothed his shirt. These were obviously the people to impress.

“Jennie, Lisa, Rosie, and Jisoo,” Chan whispered in his ear. “From left to right. They’re our benefactors — they invest in us, basically, and provide us with funds so that we don’t starve or anything.”

Felix connected a few dots in his head, and wished Seungmin was here so he could tease him about sucking up to them. Little finger-hearts. “They gave you the apartment building.”

Chan hummed agreement, but the women had arrived, and everyone was busy giving them big smiles and hugs. One of them — Jennie, he thought — lingered as the other three carried on to the kitchen. She wore a houndstooth jacket and wide-legged, white pants that nearly reached the floor, and didn’t seem affected at all by the cold.

“This must be Felix,” she said to Chan, though she stared directly into Felix’s eyes. He nodded and bowed slightly. “Are you having fun?”

“I thought there weren’t supposed to be questions until later,” Chan said with a plastered-on smile. “Have you submitted everything you wanted to ask to Jihyo?”

Jennie flicked her gaze to him, smiling briefly in return, and re-focused on Felix. “Just making small talk, Channie, that much isn’t illegal yet. And yes, I have, thank you. I’m looking forward to hearing what this one has to say.”

She gave Felix a small pat on the cheek that he forced himself to endure, and disappeared into the depths of the house. Jihyo, who had been listening in, attempted to murder Chan with her eyes once her back was turned. He defended himself, of course, but Felix paid neither of them much attention, focusing instead on breathing in and out and not falling to pieces.

Chan hip-checked him again. Somehow, it helped him settle into his skin again. “Everything good over there?”

Felix straightened slightly, relaxed his clenched fists, and nodded. There was no one rapidly approaching, so he figured he had at least a few seconds to re-organize his scattered thoughts. “I’m fine. I — my side. It’s hard to stand up for very long.”

“We’ll have a chair for you,” Chan reassured. He leaned over to Jihyo and stage-whispered, “We’ll have a chair for him, right?”

“You’ll be sitting on the couch,” Jihyo replied, looking at him askance.

Chan returned to Felix triumphantly and announced, “You’ll be sitting on the couch.”

Great. Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Chan’s sloppy attempt at humor did manage to cheer him up. Only because of how bad it was, though.

“Alright, here comes a some more people,” Chan said. He worried his lip and gave Jihyo another look, more genuinely concerned this time. “We’re looking at a full house today, aren’t we.”

Jihyo, surprisingly, looked a little guilty at Chan’s words. “We are. Jaebeom and Juhyun called me only this morning, though, so you can’t blame me for that.”

Chan worried his bottom lip even more, looking as if he was trying very hard to restrain himself. “But you knew about everyone else?”

Jihyo shrugged, but was luckily saved by the approaching group’s arrival and greetings. Chan met everyone with a charming smile, acting as if he wasn’t boiling with anger. Felix shuffled away from him slightly and watched the incoming people regard him with thinly-veiled suspicion.

“That was Got7 and Red Velvet,” Chan told him as the group of people passed. “I expected Juhyun-noona, but Jaebeom-hyung is a surprise. Red Velvet help us liaison with the old politicians that are still around, and Got7 do the same as BTS, working on performances and the like. They’ve got a barn somewhere out in the countryside filled with old paintings.”

Felix raised his eyebrows. “They do?”

“If you behave, we can bring you out there some day,” Chan said. “It’s quite a sight. Very peaceful and calm; basically the closest thing you’ll get to a museum nowadays.”

“I see,” Felix said. His thoughts drifted there for a while until the last few people trickled in.

The next group confirmed Chan’s suspicions that this would be a full house — apparently their term for when everyone was assembled, pretty self-explanatory considering how crowded the house was about to be — but Felix brightened considerably, recognizing Sunmi and Taemin from the concert he had attended so long ago.

They were alone, just the two of them, so spent some time lingering by the door to greet them. Taemin and Jihyo hugged each other tight, and Sunmi shook hands with Chan, giving Felix a considering eye.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said, giving him her hand as well. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing well,” Felix said, and was cheered to see Sunmi smile at him. He liked her smile — she was always genuine, and her smile had a knowing glint about it, as if she recognized his approval and gave him hers as well.

Sunmi considered him for a moment longer. “Call me _big sister.”_

Felix nodded. “Yes, noona.”

From behind him, Jisung scoffed. Felix felt himself startle — he had nearly forgotten the other kids were still lingering behind them. “Are you serious? First Minho, and now Sunmi. Next thing we know, he’s going to be calling Chan _hyung._ He’s fooling everyone into caring for him.”

He and Chan exchanged significant looks. Sunmi caught on, her smile twisting with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m looking forward to talking with you,” she said. “We’ll see you inside.”

With that, she gathered Taemin, and the two of them made their way inside, looking regal and refined even as Taemin tripped over a cat toy lying in the hallway.

“Let me guess,” Felix said to Chan. “They’re in the performance half.”

“How’d you know,” Chan said with a cheeky grin. “Alright, there should just be Chaerin, then we’ll be done with greeting everyone. How’re you holding up?”

Though it had been just an excuse earlier, Felix’s side ached something fierce. “I’m fine. It’ll be good to sit down, but I’m alright.”

“We’ll take you to the couch once Chaerin gets here,” Chan assured him. “We do want you to do the best you can, so let us know if you’re hurting too much to continue, alright?”

Felix nodded at him. They waited in silence until the last group of people came up, and Felix’s mood soured instantly.

The woman who must have been Chaerin led the pack of three people, wearing a bright red trench coat and a shirt with _CL_ emblazoned on the front. Her hair was bleached silvery-blonde and fell messily around her face, just barely clinging to her shoulders; she wore tinted sunglasses much like Namjoon had, though they were pushed down her nose. Behind her was a waifish woman with long, dark hair and leggings patterned with red crescent moons.

Felix spared them a glance, and fixed his glare on the last member of their trio. Ah Minsoo.

The man glared back, hair still a greasy peroxide-blond, still wearing a leather jacket and an old band t-shirt. He still looked absolutely terrible, which was to be expected.

The two women chatted with Jihyo and Nayeon as Minsoo and Felix glared silently at each other. Abruptly, Minsoo turned to Chan and asked, “Has this blown up in your face yet?”

Chan fixed him with an expression cooler than the weather outside. “We’re about to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH i'm so sorry, i absolutely didn't mean to leave you guys on a cliffhanger for that long!! essays came and hit me like a fucking freight train. i wrote 12k words — for school goddammit!! — in two weeks!! now i know way too much about early quakerism. 
> 
> i do want to announce that i'm moving updates to once a month, probably the first sunday of the month. i cut this chapter down bc it's still not fully finished, and it was looking to be a true monstrosity, so longer updates means they'll come a little less often. i hope you continue to stick around!! and thank you for your continued patience during this unannounced mini-hiatus, i hope this chapter was enjoyable. so!! thank you so much for reading, you guys are the best and ily <3
> 
> also, spot all the idol cameos!! i know they're all obvious, lol, but. there was so much research involved...


	14. Chapter 14

Felix sat primly on the couch next to Chan, his hands folded in his lap. He resisted the urge to fidget or twiddle his thumbs.

The living room was stuffed full of people. A few of the suited people from BTS had opened the wall of the living room — apparently they could do that, it just collapsed into little folds and was squished into the far wall — so that they could expand outside to the decently-sized garden. Other people stood in the hallway, standing on their tiptoes to look into the room. Most of Twice and Stray Kids were crowded behind the couch.

Eight chairs had been placed in a tight semi-circle facing the couch. In them, in order, sat Juhyun from Red Velvet, Jennie, Sungjin, Jihyo, Chaerin (who had been a debuted idol and now led missions with other trainees and idols), Jaebeom from Got7, Sunmi, and Namjoon from BTS. Chaerin was flanked by the waifish woman she’d brought, Hyuna, and Minsoo; Jennie was surrounded by her other girls; and Taemin stood next to Sunmi, a protective hand on her shoulder. The other gathered guests were scattered around the cramped living room, and Pepper had vanished somewhere into the depths of the house.

There was a box on Jihyo’s lap stuffed full with folded-up pieces of paper. As the ten of them stared at each other in silence, waiting for everyone else in the room to settle, she fiddled with them, setting them upright and placing them next to each other to form neat rows.

“Here,” Tzuyu said from over Felix’s shoulder. He turned to look at her and the glass of water she offered him. “I got this for you.”

Felix thanked her and took the water. He’d probably need it.

As they waited, Felix took stock of the council of leaders. He knew Jihyo and Sunmi, for the most part, and Sungjin, though the others were a mystery to him. Some of them seemed hard-hearted, while others looked a little kinder. Juhyun and Chaerin in particular stared at him unashamedly, while Namjoon and Jaebeom fiddled impatiently, giving him sideways glances but no outright stares.

“Okay, I think we’re all ready, or we’d better be,” Jihyo announced loudly. Everyone quieted at once and turned their attention to Felix. Felix checked the box discreetly and found that all the little slips of paper were organized. “Lee Yongbok, this is a formally informal interview. Don’t be intimidated by the people gathered — this is between you and me. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Felix said. His throat went dry, and he was suddenly very thankful for the water Tzuyu had given him.

“The members of the council have submitted questions to ask you. You may choose to defer questions to the end of this interview if you feel that you need more time to understand and formulate an answer, but I implore you to answer every question honestly and to the best of your ability. We will also call upon people that have met you to give their opinion of you. Speakers include: Lee Sunmi, Ah Minsoo, Hwang Hyunjin, and Yang Jeongin. All speakers volunteered their time and have prepared their statements. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Felix said once more.

“At the end of our interview, we will have recess of an hour and reconvene to cast our final votes regarding the matter brought forth by Bang Chan, to officially welcome you, Lee Yongbok, to our organization of District Nine. If the matter passes to welcome you, you shall henceforth be called upon as an agent and operative of District Nine, of the subunit Stray Kids. You will have an obligation to uphold our values and work towards our goal. If the matter does not pass, you will be disregarded by this organization and banned from meeting with us, discussing with us, or associating with us, excepting those under whose care you fall. Do you understand?”

For the last time, Felix said, “I do.”

Jihyo nodded, satisfied. “Then we shall begin.” She straightened up with a stabilizing breath, and picked one slip from the box. “The first question is — do you appreciate the music, art, and literature that you have been exposed to during your time with us?”

Felix didn’t even have to think about the answer. “Of course.” In all honesty, he had never exactly hated art and expression; he had known it was _bad,_ of course, but he’d never experienced a vast amount of it. Now that he had, with _The Hobbit_ and Sunmi’s concert — he met her eyes for a moment, registering her proud smile — he still wasn’t entirely certain, but he felt more charitable towards art. Saying that he appreciated it was a good way to put it. “Being here, with everyone, showed me what I was missing. Of course I appreciate it.”

“Is that your full answer?” Felix nodded, and Jihyo moved on. “The next question is — What changed your mind?”

For a moment, Felix was still, waiting for the question to be explained further. When it was not, he leaned forward and confessed, “I don’t understand.”

Jihyo raised an eyebrow at him. “What… eludes your understanding?”

“Changed my mind from what to what?” Felix shrugged. “Yesterday I preferred to eat — what — three doughnuts for breakfast, today I had pancakes, tomorrow most likely I’ll change my mind and have something healthy. Change my mind from what to what?” He took a breath and told himself to be patient. Now was not the time to lose control of his mind.

Jihyo looked blankly at the paper, then turned to look Namjoon and Jaebeom in the eye. “This question came from the two of you,” she said. “Explain it.”

After a moment of silently asking each other, Namjoon made a small noise to clear his throat and brought himself closer in his chair. “I suppose we wanted to ask something like, what made you decide to commit to this? You were an agent for _them_ a month or so ago, so why now work for us? What made you realize that you had effectively switched sides?”

There was a moment of silence in which Felix sorted his thoughts. Namjoon leaned back in his chair, and Jaebeom had nothing to say. Felix figured he could leave everyone in the lurch for a moment as he figured out what he was going to say.

“You can defer, if you need to,” Jihyo said, a little awkwardly.

“No, it’s fine,” Felix muttered. “I’m just — thinking.”

“Alright, well, take your time, then,” she said, seeming more than a little put out.

That he did. The excuses from way back when floated through his mind — _where would I go?_ — but he dismissed them, asking himself the question over and over and seeing where it led him in the depths of his mind.

“I suppose,” he began, feeling rather unsure, “there were a few moments where I thought… it’s better here than there. I should…” He glanced at Chan, thinking of his words from the night before last and wondering if he should truly speak his mind. “When I was with the Districts, all of my decisions were made for me; I was given assignments and told where to go and who to kill. They had killed my brain. My thoughts were slow, and few and far between.”

Behind him, Jisung laughed meanly. Felix flushed furiously but didn’t let himself react; besides, the others must have stepped on his toes, since he whined and shut up.

“… when I was taken here, I was given a freedom of choice I had never really experienced. I think having the space and encouragement to figure out what I felt made me realize a few things about myself and the world. So — I don’t think I _changed my mind._ I just… realized that the way I thought about things was more similar to the way you think about things than it was to the Districts’.”

“I see,” Jihyo said, openly relieved that Felix had finally given an answer. “Moving on, the next question is — if you were to join our organization, what would stop you from deserting us or betraying us to the Districts?”

“You’d kill me,” Felix said matter-of-factly. He felt a great pain on his thigh and realized that Chan had pinched him through the thick material of his pants. “What, am I wrong?”

Chaerin hummed in self-satisfied laughter. “Not really.”

“Not helping,” Jihyo told her sternly. Chan pinched Felix again, in the side this time. “We wouldn’t — well, we _probably_ wouldn’t kill you.”

“If you didn’t have threat of death hanging over your head,” Chaerin said, in the weary way of having to over-explain a simple concept. “What keeps you then?”

“Death is a pretty good motivator,” Felix told her. “But, I suppose… I wouldn’t want to. Stray Kids are — maybe, kind of, sort of, almost-but-not-quite, _friendly,_ and um… Well, I don’t want to betray them.”

“Aw,” Chan said, pulling Felix into a side-hug that he tolerated for the sake of not making the others think he was lying. “Are you blushing?”

Felix was definitely not blushing.

“Aw, you are,” Chan said. With a muttered grumble, Felix pushed his arm off and sat back up, tolerating the incoming cheek-pinches from the rest of the group. “Aw, you care about us.”

“This is a formal interview,” Felix hissed. “Be quiet and let me answer questions.”

Chan gave him a sickeningly cute smile, but was quiet, luckily. Felix turned back to Jihyo, who was also smiling, though she quickly wiped it from her face and resumed an air of professionalism. “The next question is — if, right now, you could either go back to the Districts or stay with us with absolutely no consequences to either choice, where would you go?”

The light-hearted mood faded away as Felix contemplated the question.

Where _would_ he go? It would be so easy to say that he would stay — and that was the answer they wanted, obviously. Felix was only halfway surprised that they’d give him such a leading question.

He didn’t want to think too long about it. He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

“I’ll defer,” he said quietly, though that was moot point considering the room was silent enough for everyone to hear him perfectly well.

“Very well,” Jihyo said. “You’ll still have to answer the question by the end of the interview, don’t forget. The next question — if you were to join our organization, would you stick with us until we either complete our goal or die in our attempt to do so?”

“Sure.”

Jihyo waited a moment. “Is that your full answer?”

“Yes.”

Jihyo looked to Chan, a lost expression on her face. He turned and looked too, and Chan shrugged, smiling knowingly under their combined forces. They probably both thought he was difficult and Felix couldn’t entirely blame them.

“Right,” Jihyo said. “Cool. The next question is — as you have come to experience different forms of art that you had previously sought to destroy and censor, has your opinion of art changed from your time as a district operative? Sorry, that’s a long one.”

“It’s fine,” Felix said absent-mindedly. Privately, he was relieved to have a question so entirely different than the ones before; he liked art, and thinking about it, much more than he liked contemplating how much his loyalty had shifted and what it meant for him.

He hated being confronted with how he had changed. That was part of the reason why he avoided looking himself in the eye, in mirrors. There wasn’t a way to hide from mirrors. They just showed everything without remorse.

“I suppose so,” he continued, redirecting his thoughts back to the question. “It’s different from what the Districts think of art, at least, and that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

_That’s what you want, isn’t it?_ he almost said. The thought of Chan pinching him hard enough to bruise stopped him.

“And — ” Jihyo looked at the slip of paper she had pulled from the box, and set it aside. “Tell me, what _do_ you think of art?’

“I appreciate it,” Felix said. “I told you that.”

“Can you be specific? Elaborate? What exactly about art do you appreciate?”

“I can if you can,” Felix said. “What is it about art that makes you want to protect it so much? If you tell me it has inherent value, can you explain exactly how it enriches your life? If it’s beautiful, then why not just go out and look at beautiful natural landscapes? Why go out of your way and create something instead? If art is worthy enough to just have the right to exist, and that people have a right to create it, then why do other people feel differently? What do _you_ appreciate about art?

“It’s as easy as just liking it, for me. I like it, I enjoy it; I would like to see it, hear it, and experience it. My past kept me from doing so, and because of that I appreciate that it’s in my life _now_ all the more. I used to watch paintings burn to death. Now I don’t. That’s all.”

Once he finished, silence fell upon the room once more. Felix looked out at the gathered people. They had all come to hear what he had to say, and he wondered if it was worth it.

“The next question is — ”

“Hold on,” Juhyun interrupted, raising an imperial hand. “I have something I want to ask.”

Jihyo put down her new slip of paper impatiently. “Eonnie, no — ”

“It’s just to clarify something,” Juhyun argued.

_“No,_ you’re not allowed to disrupt proceedings or I’ll have to ask you to leave and forfeit your vote,” Jihyo said.

“Jihyo,” Juhyun said, “it’s important.”

Jihyo looked at her disapprovingly. “You think all of your questions are important. And you had your chance to submit your two questions before this, just like everyone else.”

“I’m older than you so you have to do what I say,” Juhyun declared.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. One of the women that had come with Juhyun punched her shoulder.

“How about this,” Chan said, leaning forward slightly. “It does no harm to just ask, and I’ll decide if Felix answers, since I know him. Or maybe _I_ can answer. How does that sound?”

“Who the fuck is Felix?” Juhyun said.

Chan raised a judgmental eyebrow. “Is that seriously your question?”

“Okay — it doesn’t matter,” Jihyo said, obviously frustrated. “Fine. We’ll do it like that, but _no one else_ gets to ask other questions that haven’t been approved. Is that clear?”

There came a multitude of muttered agreements from the other people gathered, and Jihyo made a gesture at Juhyun for her to go ahead.

“When you say you saw paintings burn to death,” Juhyun said, looking Felix in the eye, “what exactly do you mean by that?”

Surprisingly, it was Seungmin who spoke up from where he had been standing behind the couch. “Oh! I know this one,” he said. Everyone turned to look at him, including Felix and Chan. “Functrivity.”

Privately, Felix was very pleased with Seungmin’s pronunciation.

Chan shushed him. “Min, _I’m_ supposed to answer.”

Seungmin cringed away. “Right. Sorry.”

Chan looked at Felix, then turned to address the gathered council. “Felix told us about the Districts’ approach to art. Things that have cultural significance, or historical value, are usually put away and hidden from the public eye. Pieces of art that have been created relatively recently, like books or paintings, are usually… destroyed.”

Felix considered telling them about burning facilities — they likely didn’t know — but thought better of it.

“Burned,” Juhyun declared. “As you said.”

“Yes,” Felix said. “Is that everything you wanted to ask?”

Juhyun leaned forward. “And what did you do to stop it?”

In real life, Chan sat between her and Felix, but in that moment, it felt as if he was entirely alone in the room with her. As if she was sitting right beside him, disapproving and accusing. It was surreal and strange.

“Hey, no,” Jihyo said, and the real world again surrounded him, everything all at once; Chan’s protests, and the protests of a few others that Felix registered but didn’t recognize. “Yongbok, you don’t have to answer that. Eonnie, I gave you one question, and one question only. You might be older than me, but I’m still in charge here, okay? Let’s move on. Or do you need a break?” She looked at Felix with concern, which was surprising. Felix didn’t exactly expect concern from them.

Chan took stock of Felix, who probably looked like he was waning, because he was. “Ten minutes, please, Jihyo.”

“Of course.” Jihyo announced it to the rest of the people gathered, and they split off into small groups and wandered away. Felix imagined they were discussing him and his words. He leaned back into the couch with a sigh and decided to not speak with anyone except the Stray Kids until this was over.

The council members dispersed as well, huddling into their own little groups. Felix watched them all discuss; while there were many people in each subunit, there seemed to be a small group of trusted people that each council member flocked to and whispered to. Juhyun talked with four other women, Sungjin had a few other men that Felix vaguely recognized (including Brian, of course), and Jihyo gathered all of her girls and bullied her way into the kitchen.

Felix then remembered the glass of water Tzuyu had given him. He took it from the tiny coffee table pushed next to the couch and took slow sips from it, running over his own answers in his head.

“Hey,” Seungmin said, laying his hand on Felix’s shoulder. He and Jeongin came over to sit next to him on the couch, squishing all of them together and making Chan grumble and swat at them. “You’re doing really well, Lix.”

“How’re you holding up?” Jeongin asked. “Do you need us to get anything for you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Felix said, his voice small. “This is… a lot.”

“I know, it’s really intense,” Jeongin said. “There’s a lot of people here. But seriously, don’t let it get to you. Just focus on your answers and keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Maybe work on a more in-depth explanation every once in a while,” Seungmin said. “Paint yourself sympathetically. Try to get them on your side — you’re here to be vulnerable, and tell us what your life and worldview are like, so don’t hold back on saying things that would make people like you.”

Jeongin hit his shoulder. “Don’t say anything that feels unnatural to you, though, because they’ll definitely be able to tell, and that won’t make anyone like you.”

“That’s true,” Seungmin said. “I get that it’s uncomfortable, and scary, and I know you’d rather be anywhere than here. I don’t blame you for being stressed, just… try to keep a cool head. Be professional, and do your best. You’ve got this.”

Felix waited for a moment to see if they were done. “Thanks for the… advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Seungmin and Jeongin both beamed.

“I hear you’re going to talk about me,” Felix said to Jeongin.

“All good things, I promise. They asked for volunteers a few days ago, and I didn’t want to say no. Sorry for not telling you about it, though, it’s been a busy few days and I wasn’t sure…”

“No, it’s fine, I understand,” Felix said. “I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say.”

Jeongin beamed once more, and the conversation turned to Felix’s mission the night before. He told them about his injury, and about falling into the dumpster, which they cringed away from appropriately. Soon enough, the ten minute recess finished, and everyone found their old spots. Felix quickly downed the rest of his water and sat up again, wary about beginning again.

Jihyo cleared her throat, though there was little need; everyone had quieted and settled, for the most part. “Yongbok, are you ready to start again?”

Felix nodded. “Yes.”

“Great. The next question is — ” She cringed slightly. “Did you ever think that what you were doing under the districts was wrong?”

“Of course I did,” Felix said at once, though he was a little shocked at the question. The intensity of it reminded him how hard this interview was meant to be; although Chan was beside him, no one held his hand through it all. “I murdered people. No amount of brainwashing was going to convince me that what I was doing was okay. If you’re asking about my previous opinions on the Districts as a whole, and if their attitude towards creativity was wrong, then I can’t help you. The things I did weren’t all about art. Sometimes it was just murder.”

“Thank you for your answer,” Jihyo said. Felix thought he could most likely say more about the subject, but he understood when to stop to save his own skin. He reminded himself of what Seungmin and Jeongin had said about making people like him, and figured his answer wasn’t going to do him any favors. “The next question is — if you were aware of the other options available to you, why did you never turn from the Districts before this?”

Felix thought for a moment. “I didn’t actually… know,” he said, carefully. “Situations similar to this one have happened before, where I was captured by an antagonistic force, but they never made any attempt to… rehabilitate me. And I’ve infiltrated groups like this before, in one way or another, but never taken them seriously. So I knew things like this existed, but I never thought they were available to _me.”_

“Is that your final answer?” Jihyo asked, after a moment passed.

“I… yes,” Felix said.

Jihyo hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” She waited another moment, most likely to see if he would continue, then said, “The next question is — why did you join the Districts?”

Felix took in a deep breath. Out of all of the questions he’d been asked, this was the one to bring up the most memories. Not all of them were good, but nor were they all bad, either. He thought about it a lot. How different his life could have been.

It was emotional for him, in a way they most likely didn’t expect. He took a full minute to think before he spoke and refused to look anyone in the face.

“In 2005,” he began, speaking carefully and hoping not to betray himself, “children from all over the world, ages three to six years old, took an aptitude test administered by the Districts. I was just four at the time, so I thought it was a fun game, but after I grew up I did some researching on my own and filled in the gaps of my memory. A week after the first test, I was told that I had scored in the ninety ninth percentile of four-year-olds in Australia, New Zealand, and the rest of Oceania, and was invited to play another game. My parents were incredibly excited, and signed off on every legal thing they had had to back then. That second test was a lot harder than the first, but I still succeeded in it greatly. That afternoon, instead of going home, I was taken to my first District facility. I haven’t seen my family since.”

Everyone had an emotional response to that, even the hardasses Felix had taken note of. Sunmi closed her eyes and hid her face by touching her forehead gently; Jihyo sucked in a small breath and pressed her mouth together; and Namjoon wiped unsubtly at his eyes.

Felix, somehow, found that his gaze landed on the face of Ah Minsoo. The expression on his face was indiscernible and indescribable, and Felix didn’t know why he couldn’t look away.

“So,” he said, surprising even himself with the volume and strength of his voice. “That’s why. Never really… had a choice.”

“That’s…” Jihyo began, sounding sorrowful and sad. “We — well, we have one question left, and then the question you deferred earlier. I… want to refrain from saying anything personal, but I’m sorry, that sounds very difficult. The last question is — do you want to be here?”

“I do,” Felix said. “That answer is… surprising, even to myself, I think… but I do want to be here. You’re good people, here, and if I have a choice, then I want to be with good people.”

Jihyo smiled carefully, but genuinely. “Thank you, Yongbok. Have you had time to think about your answer to your deferred question?”

“Yes,” he replied.

When faced with two options, in reality, one has five. Two of them follow the unspoken rules — to pick one or the other — but usually one could take both options, decide to refrain from taking either, or make up an entirely different option altogether. Those were the secret options. Felix knew them well.

“I would choose neither of you,” Felix decided. “If I could go anywhere without consequence, I would walk away from all of this. Of course I think what you’re doing is great and a worthwhile cause, but I just want to stop, really, and let come what may. I know that stopping isn’t an option for someone like me… but I’ve been doing this my entire life. I’ve been done with all of it for a long time.”

“I see,” Jihyo said. The rest of the council members shifted in their seats, giving significant looks to other people in the audience, and Jihyo placed her box of questions down on the floor beside her. “Thank you for your time, Yongbok. Your part of this interview is over. We’ll have a fifteen minute recess, and reconvene to listen to our prepared statements.”

At once, the council members jumped from their seats and spirited their groups away. Chan turned to look at the rest of the Stray Kids behind the couch, and Felix fell back, putting his hands over his face and letting himself melt entirely into the upholstery.

“Felix,” Seungmin said, his voice gentle. “I — we had no idea…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Felix said from behind his hands.

“I get it. I wouldn’t, either.” The couch dipped next to Felix, a warm body pressed tight against his, and Felix held himself ramrod straight. “I won’t make you. But I’ll be right here until you’re ready.”

Slowly, carefully, Felix let himself lean onto Seungmin. He let his head tilt onto Seungmin’s shoulder and readjusted once or twice, hoping to get comfortable. Seungmin said nothing, did nothing; was just there, and that was enough.

Behind them, Chan was still talking with the other Kids. Felix wondered what they were talking about, in a dull, edgeless sort of way; he didn’t care enough to actually listen, but he did care.

It was strange to have so many people listening to him. Felix had never had that sort of audience before, and it was more than a little frightening. He wondered if what he had said was _good_ enough. If it was enough to make them like him, and accept him into their group. Right now, that was all he wanted. He’d officially been a prisoner for over a month — he wanted freedom again, real freedom. Chan and the others had given him space and attention, of course, more than was expected of them, but Felix was growing a little tired of the apartment.

They had done so much for him. It had only been a month, and yet somehow, he felt like an entirely different person. He went by a different name, even. He was filled with different experiences that felt something like joy, if he had to put a name to it.

He would always have this art inside of him, now. Even if he was sucked back into the world of the Districts tomorrow, he would never forget the stories and music he had been given.

“Thank you,” Felix murmured, quiet enough that only Seungmin could hear.

Seungmin didn’t say anything, but he put his arm over Felix’s shoulder and drew him impossibly closer.

Felix took his hands from his face and set them in his lap, though he kept his eyes closed. Giving the interview had taken a lot out of him, and he was strangely tired. The injury on his side didn’t exactly help, either; he wondered if he could doze for a minute or two, until it was time for the others to speak.

It was not to be, however. Felix heard the conversation peter off, and felt Chan adjust next to him on the couch. He opened his eyes to see a woman approaching — the woman that had been with Chaerin and Minsoo earlier, with the leggings and everything. The other two were nowhere to be seen; Felix assumed they had gone of to another room and wasn’t worried.

“Hey,” the woman said.

“Hi, Hyuna-noona,” Chan said with a smile. “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We’re doing well,” she said. “Mind if I sit?”

Without waiting for permission, she inserted herself between Chan and the arm of the couch, squeezing the four of them together even further. Seungmin wheezed slightly, and Felix cringed at the thought of crushing him.

“That was a great interview, lots to think about,” she continued, leaning around Chan to smile at Felix and give him a thumbs up. “So, good job! If you don’t mind, I just wanted to clarify one little thing. It’s not, like, anything intense like what you’ve just been through, don’t worry.”

“Still,” Chan said, with that particular smile retail workers gave difficult customers. “We’re done with asking questions for now.”

“No, I know,” Hyuna said. “Though I don’t exactly agree, since it feels like there should have been a period of time allocated to follow-up questions; I mean, obviously, your answers would raise more questions for us, and we should have been able to ask them. But — whatever. No big deal.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and gave a harmless, silly little smile. “I’m not asking anything about your thought process, or your past, really, I was just curious because, Chan, _you_ called Yongbok here a different name earlier.”

Felix felt his heart stutter in his chest.

“Of course, we don’t keep important secrets from each other, right, Channie? So I was just wondering what that was, and if it was important.”

“Um.” Chan looked over at Felix, who shrugged. “It wasn’t… _vital.”_

Hyuna leaned forward again and peered curiously at Felix. “Felix, right? I guess that’s the name you actually like to use, and feel most comfortable with. Tell me, why _Felix?”_

“It — ” Felix met eyes with Chan, who seemed just as lost as he felt. “It’s my name. That’s all.”

“And why Yongbok?”

“Um. It’s my middle name. Lee Yongbok Felix.”

Hyuna smiled widely at him. “I see! Well, that’s all I’m after. Great, Felix, thanks so much. Good luck with everything! Channie, I’ll see you later, don’t drown yourself in work, alright? Bye.” She slid off of the couch while waving a twinkling goodbye, and disappeared into the depths of the house before Felix could form a coherent thought.

“Well,” Chan said, after a moment passed. He scooted over to give the three of them on the couch some room again. “That’s Kim Hyuna. She works with Chaerin to run missions.”

Felix hummed in response. He wondered why Hyuna wanted to know his name — why it felt like she was just confirming something she already knew.

“Anyway,” Jisung said, drawing everyone’s attention. “What do we think? What’s everyone feeling in terms of voting right now?”

“Your votes don’t count,” Chan said. “None of your votes count except for mine.”

Jisung gasped dramatically. “Hyung! I thought this was meant to be a democracy.”

“No way, Channie-hyung has always been a ruthless tyrant,” Minho said, reaching around to pinch his cheek. Chan swatted his hand away and squished his face in mock anger. “Gaze upon the face of an authoritarian dictator.”

“I, obviously, vote to kick him,” Jisung said, scooting over and reaching to ruffle Felix’s hair. “Poor tool of the oppressive system of government.”

“You’re literally the only one out of the seven of us who feel that way,” Seungmin pointed out.

“Tyranny of the majority.”

“Tyranny of the _minority,”_ Changbin said. “Just because there’s a pretty vocal minority doesn’t mean those that outnumber them have to listen or bend to their will. You’re a minority for a reason.”

“Hyunjin, you’re backing me up, right?” Jisung said. Hyunjin shrugged with a mysterious smile. _“Hwang Hyunjin?”_

“Sheesh, you’re so dramatic,” Hyunjin muttered, shoving Jisung’s face away. Jisung squawked in offense. “I have my statement prepared, you’ll see then. Since we’re being honest and everything.”

“Oh, yeah, the statement things,” Jisung said. “What are you all going to talk about?”

“We’re not allowed to tell you,” Jeongin said. “Besides, you’ll find out in, like, a minute.”

“Too long to wait,” Jisung declared. “But I suppose I will. I’m surprised no one asked me to say anything; I have an opinion, goddammit, and people should be allowed to hear it.”

“You had to volunteer,” Hyunjin said.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t tell you,” Chan said.

Jisung gasped even more dramatically at that; Felix wondered if he was ever going to pass out from acting stupid like that. “See! Yet another example of Chan’s tyrannical rule. Is this really the man we trust to lead us into a fair and just system of government? He can’t even listen to his most trusted group of friends and coworkers!”

“Hey, I didn’t hear a hyung in there,” Chan said, though he didn’t seem to take it personally. “And obviously we’re going to restore an actual democracy when everything’s back to normal. That’s Juhyun-noona’s thing, though, so we get to not worry about it.”

At the mention of _everything going back to normal,_ Felix felt an intense urge to speak up in contradiction. He didn’t, though; he didn’t actually have the time, because just then Jihyo called everyone back to order.

“Alright, it’s been fifteen minutes,” she shouted to the house at large. “You have thirty seconds to get back in here and find your places before I begin!”

There came a tremendous sound of about a million pounding feet, and Felix pulled his feet up onto the couch with him in the vain fear that they would be stepped on. Seungmin vaulted over the back of the couch to join the others. For some reason, Felix missed him once he was gone.

Sungjin and Jennie were the last two council members to arrive, and slid into their seats just as Jihyo began her explanation of the proceedings. “We’ll be hearing a few prepared statements from some volunteers, recess for half an hour, and reconvene to cast our final votes. For our first speaker, I call upon Yang Jeongin.”

With some difficulty, Jeongin found his way to the small space of the floor between Felix’s couch and the tight semi-circle of council members. He cleared his throat, looked back to Chan for reassurance, and began to speak.

“I believe in Felix. I think he’s a good person with a good soul. Despite his history and what you think that would make him, Felix is… gentle, and genuine, in a way we didn’t expect. There were moments that worried us, or scared or hurt us, but that’s to be expected; he’s still human, after all, and stressed and scared himself, though I don’t think he’ll let himself admit that.

“I was the first person Felix opened up to within our division, and it’s been genuinely an honor to see him begin to trust us, open up to us, and appreciate what we had to offer. He was afraid and wary, rightfully so, and despite everything he decided to give us a chance. We’ve seen tremendous growth from him, an unexpected strength of character, and emotional maturity and balance. Felix is a good person, a better person than we thought, and I believe and trust in him. It is my hope that you see the same genuine person that I do, and choose to give him the same chance he has given us.”

With that, Jeongin gave his audience — who had been listening intently — a respectful bow, and scuttled behind the couch once more, refusing to make eye contact with Felix, or indeed anyone else. Felix twisted and watched as Jeongin buried himself into Seungmin’s chest, and heard Seungmin’s surprised laugh.

“Alright, thank you,” Jihyo said. “Next, we have Lee Sunmi.”

Sunmi stood at once, smiling gently and mysteriously at the gathered people, taking a folded piece of paper from her bag. She faced Felix rather than the other council members.

She said, “My questions for this interview, if I am allowed to talk about them (though I suppose you can’t stop me), were the ones relating the most to art — if you appreciated it or not, if your opinion of it had changed. I do find myself satisfied with the answers you’ve given my questions; you gave them great thought, as I see you give most things. I don’t expect you to be ideologically pure — none of us here are, no piece of art of literature is, and besides, I expect very little from you, which allows me to be pleasantly surprised each time we meet. It is a foolish thing to hope that you would have questioned the Districts during your time with them — I see that they were your home for a very long time, and it would have been a tremendous thing to even think that you might be able to question them — they were all you had ever known, and yet you turned into this bright, brilliant person despite it all.”

She was silent for a moment, thinking hard, and finally unfolded her piece of paper. As she began again, she read from what must have been a prepared speech.

“You came to my concert a while back. I saw you from the stage and wondered why you were there, then decided to stop worrying and chose to be grateful that you were there at all. At that moment, you chose art over every cruel thing your previous life had given you. I could see that happen within you — I think you were aware of it as well. It must have been a hard decision, and I’m proud of you for making it. I decided to trust you from that moment on, and I trust you, Lee Yongbok.”

Sunmi ended her speech with a firm nod, and sat back down with a deep, steadying breath. Behind her, Taemin clapped softly, though no one else joined him. Sunmi appreciated it, though, looking up at him and smiling.

“Thank you, noona,” Jihyo said. “Our next speaker is Ah Minsoo.”

Felix had held off on letting anything said affect him, but he tensed at this regardless. He wondered what vile things Minsoo would say about him. There was obviously a lot he could say; Felix remembered well.

Minsoo straightened, but refrained from stepping forward as the others had — Felix braced himself, but what came out of his mouth was entirely unexpected. “I — I’m sorry. I’m going to refrain from giving my statement.”

Everyone in the room shifted to look at him. Chaerin twisted around in her chair to give him a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” Jihyo asked. “This is your last chance; speak now or forever hold your peace, as it were.”

Minsoo seemed a thousand miles away, thinking hard and looking no one in the eye. “I’m sure.”

Felix sat on the couch, feeling entirely confused. Hyuna gave him a knowing smile and a glittering wink.

“Well, alright, then,” Jihyo said. “If you’re sure. For our last speaker, I call upon Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin made his way to the front with as much grace as he could muster. He, too, unfolded a piece of paper that he had kept in his pocket, and began to read aloud.

“It’s hard to trust someone who neither trusts nor likes you in return. It’s easier to just hold each other at arm’s distance and pretend that that’s fine. That’s how I approached the fact that there was a stranger living in my house, eating my food, and sitting in my living room, watching my television. There was a stranger in my house that I had heard literal horror stories about; who had gravely wounded my friends and almost killed me; who frightened me; and who was not going to go away. I weaponized my fear and wielded it against the stranger and my friends, who had all spontaneously become insane because for some reason they liked the murderous, evil stranger; I told them I was scared, that I felt unsafe, and that I wanted him gone. And I really did want him gone, but as time wore on, I found that it was less and less because of my fear for him — which waned with time as well — and more and more because I hated him. So I thought to myself, _why do I hate the stranger that lives in my house?_ And there were a lot of answers to that question, but I was dissatisfied with them for a few reasons. The answers felt like excuses, as if I was cheating myself from the real answer, which turned out to be the fact that I didn’t actually hate him. I had observed the stranger that lived in my house, see, and I found something curious about him, which was that he didn’t seem to dislike me. And then I talked a little bit with the stranger, because if he didn’t dislike me then that should be fine, and I found that I didn’t need to hold him at arm’s length. I could trust him, if I wanted to. So I asked myself if I wanted to trust the stranger that lived in my house. It seemed like an appropriate question. And I danced around the answer that I didn’t want to be the answer, which was yes, until I let myself stop dancing around the answer of ‘yes’ and accepted it. I did want to trust the stranger that lived in my house. So I decided to trust him a little bit, and see where that would get me. What I found — and I found this recently — was that when I decide to trust the stranger that lives in my house, eats my food, and sits in my living room listening to my friends tell stories, the stranger becomes a little less strange.”

“Great, thank you,” Jihyo said the moment he was done.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin said, and scrambled back over the couch, acting much less dignified than before.

Jihyo leaned back in her chair and gave a great, big sigh. “Alright, that does it for our statements, which means we’re done with everything except for the final vote. I want everyone back here in half an hour. Got it? I’m going to get some coffee going, but if you’re not willing to wait, there’s a coffee shop a little ways down the road. Just be sure to get here in time for the vote.”

With that, everyone dispersed. Felix leaned back into the couch, thinking over what everyone else had said about him and blinking away the dark spots that crowded his vision.

He hit Chan’s shoulder to get his attention. “Where are the painkillers?”

Chan, who had already found himself deep in discussion with Minho, didn’t look as he swatted at Felix’s hand. “I don’t know. Go ask Jihyo or Nayeon-noona; they’re probably in the kitchen.”

Felix waited a moment.

Chan turned back to him. “Oh my god, I totally forgot you’re super injured. Sorry. Go with Jeongin.”

Felix looked to Jeongin, who was still buried in Seungmin’s chest. Seungmin met his eyes and shrugged.

“Or, uh… Changbin,” Chan decided. Changbin helped Felix get up, as if he was elderly or something, and together they made their way to the kitchen, weaving around groups of people deep in discussion. Felix chose not to listen to anything.

Jihyo was in the kitchen with a few of her girls and a full pot of coffee when Felix hobbled in. The pain in his side was a fantastic distraction from their lively conversation, and Changbin got him a glass of water, then spent five minutes rummaging around for painkillers.

“Hey,” Tzuyu said next to him, making Felix startle slightly from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “What are you looking for?”

“Hey,” Felix said. “Do you happen to have painkillers?”

“Of course. We’re constantly going on missions and getting injured, and besides, nine people in one house who all have — you know — periods, and get headaches from staring at a screen for too long late at night — ”

“Be quiet,” Jihyo called over to them.

“Yeah, we do,” Tzuyu finished.

“Well, can I have some?” Felix asked.

“It’s entertaining to watch Bin look for them,” Tzuyu declared. She wasn’t wrong, and the two of them leaned against the counter together, watching Changbin become increasingly frazzled as he took out all of the spices from a cabinet above the sink and squinted at each label.

“Why do you have so many vitamins,” Changbin groused.

“It’s funny because the ibuprofen tablets are in the bathroom upstairs,” Tzuyu stage-whispered to Felix.

Changbin’s face immediately soured, and he left the vitamins and spices a mess on the counter and stormed upstairs to presumably get the painkillers. Nayeon tsked at the mess on the counter, but made no move to clean it up, and Tzuyu wandered off to make a cup of coffee, laughing to herself.

Felix lingered by the counter and waited for Changbin to get back, though he didn’t expect anything any time soon, considering that the bathroom was most likely just as crowded as the kitchen.

There came the general sounds of someone else walking into the kitchen; Felix noted it, but chose to ignore it. The pain in his side was beginning to throb and radiate outwards, and that took all of his attention.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said.

Felix whipped around, a hand on his injury to keep it from pulling. On the other side of the counter stood Ah Minsoo.

“Wait,” Minsoo said, putting a hand up to halt any of Felix's instincts to run. He leaned on his elbows over the counter, his face an incomprehensible mix of emotions — he seemed deep in thought, which his body language reflected as he shifted from foot to foot and massaged the joints of his hands. 

“What could you possibly want,” Felix asked through gritted teeth. Not that his injury made it easy to think, but he couldn’t come up with a reason for why this man would voluntarily talk to him. Maybe to tell him directly the speech he had refrained from giving, but that seemed like a stretch.

Minsoo looked him up and down. “You alright?”

Felix didn’t answer.

“Here.” Minsoo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small wooden container, took out three pills, and passed them over. “Some painkillers. If you need it.”

Felix looked at the pills warily and didn’t take them. “What do you want.”

After a moment, Minsoo took the pills back and put them in the container once more. “It’s… maybe not the right conversation to have around listening ears."

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it where other people are listening,” Felix said.

“I really can’t.”

Felix looked closer at him, and found that he could comprehend the expression on Minsoo’s face a little better. He looked sad. There were other things, and a complexity to his sadness, but it made Felix melt a little. Not much, but enough.

“Fine,” Felix said. “Where should we talk?”

Minsoo nodded over to the door, and led Felix through the house until they stood by the front door. Felix stopped in the front hall and refused to go any further; thankfully, Minsoo stopped as well, apparently finding this place suitably private.

The two of them stood in silence for a long moment. The ambient sounds of the crowded house drifted over to them, muted and wordless.

“So,” Minsoo began. “I wanted to tell you why I joined this organization. That’s a good place to start, I think. About twenty-five years ago, my older sister and her husband, and their daughter — she was about a year old at that point, or was just going to turn a year old, I don’t remember — immigrated to Australia. This was before the Districts pulled their coups, but after they started gaining political power. While they lived there, they had another kid. He would be about twenty years old now. His name was Felix Lee.”

From that moment on, Felix did not breathe.

“When Felix was four, he was essentially kidnapped by the Districts. My sister was distraught. She tried to appeal to the government, to the courts, to anyone who would listen to her. But the contract she had signed with the Districts was clear and legally binding, so there was nothing she could do. There were a few other people whose children had been taken, people that could do nothing, and they sort of joined together, becoming one of the first movements that openly criticized the Districts. They were a popular political party worldwide, the Districts, and what my sister did was very brave. As the years passed, people’s children started to return to them, unable to talk of what had happened to them or why they had been gone for so long, but my sister never received word of her son. The greatest tragedy was when a young girl’s body was returned; a day after that, the coups happened, and the world as we knew it changed irrevocably.

“I was about sixteen when my nephew was born, and still living here with my parents. I heard about what had happened, and from that moment, my heart was hardened against the Districts. When I heard of this movement, District Nine, that was dedicated to overthrowing them and restoring art to the world, I joined at once, even if I had never been a musician, or artistically inclined. The Districts had kidnapped my nephew, did unknowable things to him, and I would have torn down the whole world with my bare hands for him if I could. I tear apart anything from the Districts that foolishly comes within reach of my hands. So tell me, Lee Yongbok Felix, are you a thing of the Districts, or are you my nephew?”

Felix let the breath he was holding go. His brain was just as stunned as he was, and the most eloquent thought he could voice was, “What?”

Minsoo, who looked expectant, sighed through his nose. “Do you know your mother’s name?”

“No.” Felix tried not to feel too ashamed at that. He had been four when he was taken, she was just _Mom_ to him.

“What about your sister?”

Felix looked away and thought for a moment. It had been a while — too long — since he had let himself think of his family. “She’s… Rebecca. Yeah. I remember Rebecca.”

Minsoo nodded, and took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. Your sister’s name is Rebecca. Your mother is Sunhee, and your father is named Yunseok. You have a younger sister named Amy. They live here, in Seoul. I…”

He paused, and with no small amount of hesitation, put his hand gently on Felix’s shoulder.

“I could be wrong,” Minsoo began. “I’m not often wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’m often right. I could be wrong in thinking that you’re my nephew. Part of me hopes I am, and part of me hopes I’m not. If you are my nephew — my _family_ — then I have an obligation to you and to my sister, and I want to honor the time I spent looking for you and the time my sister spent fighting for you. I have their address. I can give that to you.

“I’ve looked so long, and so hard, for you, Felix. I — I won’t lie, seeing you before me and knowing that we were enemies, I… I don’t know how to feel about it. Not yet, and maybe not ever. And I’m sure you don’t care. I’ve tried to kill you more than once. But you’re my family, and I’m going to look out for you from now on. Alright? That much I can do.”

Using the hand on his shoulder, Minsoo pulled Felix into a hug. It was awkward and strange and uncomfortable, but neither of them pulled away; Felix could tell this meant a lot to Minsoo, and it meant something to him as well. Something nebulous and strange, nameless feelings he couldn't let himself feel for too long. 

“Alright.” Minsoo pulled away first, his face working hard to conceal his emotions. “You should get back to your group. They’re good people, and I’m glad you’re with them out of everyone here. They care for you. And — here.”

He took the wooden container from his back pocket again and gave three pills to Felix, then pulled a tiny notebook from the same pocket and wrote something down. He ripped the paper out and passed it to Felix as well.

“That’s their address,” Minsoo said. “My sister and her family. I… you should visit, when you can. They would want to see you.”

Felix shoved the piece of paper in his pocket without looking at it. He was certain that nothing would stop him from running across the city to that front door if he saw it.

“Thank you,” he said to Minsoo. “For… this.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m your uncle; this is the least families can do for each other.”

Felix felt himself nod, and the two of them returned to the main rooms of the house, the chatter and people growing around them. In the living room, Chan and Changbin were arguing near the couch, while the rest of the Stray Kids, and some Twice girls, watched on in amusement. Chan was slowly growing redder and redder as the argument reached a peak.

_“How could you lose the one person this whole meeting has been about?”_

“Come on, Chan, you can't blame me! He's a slippery guy and we know it — I left for one second, and when I came back he had gone!”

_“And did no one else see him?”_

Tzuyu put a hand up. “I was getting coffee, so, no.”

Chan buried his head in his hands and screamed.

Behind Felix’s shoulder, Minsoo chucked in good nature. “It would be hilarious if you snuck up on them and acted like nothing happened,” he whispered to Felix conspiratorially.

Felix did as he suggested. With one last look at Minsoo, who smiled encouragingly at him, he kept quiet as he crept through the crowd, careful to not disturb anyone or draw attention to himself. None of the people around the couch noticed his approach, and he found himself right behind Chan as he continued to mutter obscenities into his hands.

“Hey, hyung,” he said.

Everyone at the couch startled, and Jisung’s face immediately crumpled as if he had just registered a sour taste. Chan leapt about a foot in the air, whirled on him, and immediately pulled him into a crushing hug. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” he said, pulling back to grip Felix by the shoulders and shake him gently. “Where have you been? We thought you had been kidnapped or something!”

_Hyung?_ Jisung mouthed, though only Hyunjin gave him any attention, in the form of an eye roll and hip check.

“I…” Felix glanced over to where he had left Minsoo, only to find the spot empty. “I was just talking to someone.”

The slip of paper in his pocket burned in his mind.

* * *

“One last call to order!” Jihyo shouted to the house. “You have had time to deliberate, and now we are going to vote! Get here in thirty seconds or you will be disqualified!”

Felix, who had been dozing on the couch (the painkillers Minsoo had given him were insanely powerful, and even the stress of strangers holding his future in their hands couldn’t keep him fully awake), sat up straight and watched as people poured back into the living room. Juhyun and Chaerin had to squeeze their way through the crowd of people, too short to be seen over everyone’s heads.

“Alright,” Jihyo said, once everyone had settled. “I’m tired; let’s not drag this out any longer than we have to. The leader of Stray Kids, Bang Chan, brought forward the proposal to add a new member to his team: Lee Yongbok. Due to his past, we found it fit to conduct an interview and hear from people that know him; hopefully this has been enough to inform you of his character and trustworthiness. If the motion passes, then he will be the newest member of District Nine, a full member of our organization, fighting for the same cause, against the same enemy. He will no longer be considered a prisoner or enemy agent. Is this clear to everyone?”

A murmured “yes” passed around the semi-circle of council members.

“Great,” Jihyo said. “Members of the High Council, raise your hand if you vote for the motion to pass.”

Felix tensed in anticipation, watching each person carefully. Beside him, Chan’s hand shot up first; Jihyo followed immediately after, then Sunmi, Namjoon, Sungjin, and finally, Chaerin. Felix risked a quick glance at those who had not voted — Juhyun, Jennie, and Jaebeom — and found their faces stony and unreadable.

Jihyo counted them all — six raised hands in total — and nodded. “Thank you. That’s the majority.” She took a deep breath, mild shock evident on her face, and grinned. “Congratulations, Lee Yongbok. You’re officially a part of District Nine.”

The room cheered, even those who had not voted for him clapping in celebration. Chan whooped and swooped Felix up into a hug, barreling him over into the couch in his enthusiasm.

Felix laughed with joy, and in Chan’s shoulder, buried his face and the smile upon it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ahhh this is a day late, i'm so sorry, i know it's not sunday but i didn't want to wait to publish this anymore (TT TT)
> 
> thank you guys for 7k hits!! i hope you enjoy this chapter, it was a lot of dialogue but hopefully worth it. only six chapters left!! can you believe it?? i couldn't have done all of this without your support, so thank you so much. <3 <3 i'll see you guys next month!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! My Twitter is @spinsters_grave, I need more skz moots… (usually I would post a link but ao3 is fucking with me rn, tune in for a link later i guess?) Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and updates are about every other Sunday, but don’t hold me to that <3


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